


PAPERSK1N's 30-Day-OTP Challenge!

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, All sorts really!, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Arguing, Bartenders, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Car Accidents, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cold Weather, Dancing, Dates, Dating, Drabble Collection, Drug Use, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Extra Life, F/M, Fluff, Free Play, GTA!AU, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, High School, I'm sure I'll add more as I go!, Illegal Activities, M/M, Magic-Users, Mavin, Mistletoe, Multi, Murder, Other RT Peoples!, RTExtraLife, Raywood, Recreational Drug Use, Spies & Secret Agents, Spy!AU, Swimming, Tap Dancing, Valentine's Day, dance, dangerous driving, makeout, mini-fics, turnwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 26,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8731894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: 30 Days of Fic!Featuring my fave 3 RT ships; Raywood, Mavin and Turnwood! A different fic will be posted each day, some fairly short, some longer!  In a nutshell: I wrote my own 30 Day OTP Fic/Art challenge this time last year and posted it on tumblr (http://papersk1n.tumblr.com/search/30+day) and then never wrote it! So here i am now, one year on! And feel free to join me in writing/drawing your own based on my 30 Days, if you'd like! Each chapter title will include the referenced pairing!





	1. (Mavin) Day One: Food/Eating

**Author's Note:**

> Here's how it's gonna go down.
> 
> Day One: Food/Eating
> 
> Day Two: Watching TV/A Movie
> 
> Day Three: Pool
> 
> Day Four: Snowed In
> 
> Day Five: Fight
> 
> Day Six: Grocery Shopping
> 
> Day Seven: Being Drunk/High Together
> 
> Day Eight: High School!AU
> 
> Day Nine: Playing Games
> 
> Day Ten: Reckless Driving
> 
> Day Eleven: Spy!AU
> 
> Day Twelve: Christmas Decorating
> 
> Day Thirteen: Magical Powers!AU
> 
> Day Fourteen: Valentines Day
> 
> Day Fifteen: Cuddling
> 
> Day Sixteen: Halloween
> 
> Day Seventeen: Break Up / Make Up
> 
> Day Eighteen: College!AU
> 
> Day Nineteen: Celebrity/Personal Assistant!AU
> 
> Day Twenty: Motorcycle(s)
> 
> Day Twenty-One: Bartender!AU
> 
> Day Twenty-Two: Make Out
> 
> Day Twenty-Three: Doing Something Illegal
> 
> Day Twenty-Four: Car Accident
> 
> Day Twenty-Five: Mistletoe
> 
> Day Twenty-Six: Dance
> 
> Day Twenty-Seven: Teachers!AU
> 
> Day Twenty-Eight: Trying To Kill Each Other (figuratively or literally, your choice)
> 
> Day Twenty-Nine: (Having their relationship being a secret) Being Found Out By Friends
> 
> Day Thirty: FREE SPACE

Day One: Food/Eating: Mavin

 

 

“Gavin, I swear to fucking God- you are literally _the_ most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

Gavin laughed, pasta twirling around his fork. It didn’t even register that they were sitting in the middle of a crowded restaurant, and Michael was swearing at him with a pink face and stupid smirk. A few people sitting around them looked over at the outburst and frowned, or shot Gavin pitiful looks which he ignored, because he knew what Michael really meant when he snapped and swore with that adorable, dimpled smile on his face.

“You love me.” He grinned.

“Yes. I fucking do. God knows why.” Michael huffed, sipping from his beer. Still, the smile remained on his face, dimples only highlighted by the low light of the restaurant and the flicker of the candle on their table. Michael stabbed at his steak and raised a piece to his mouth, glaring harshly as Gavin did nothing but stare at him across the table.

“Gavin-”

“I’m not doing nothing!”

“Sure.” Michael shook his head. Another series of worried and pointed looks were sent their way, but Gavin didn’t really care. Sure, probably to a lot of people the whole situation was bizarre- one curly haired guy yelling at his date, who looked on and grinned and tried to play _footsie_ under the table. But then, Michael and Gavin’s entire relationship was genuinely quite bizarre by definition.

“Happy anniversary boi.” Gavin raised his own glass towards Michael, who toasted him promptly. “How on earth did we make it two whole years?”

“God knows.” Michael leant back in his chair. “I’m surprised your constant flurry of moronic outbursts didn’t send me packing after two fucking weeks.”

“Oh, like I wouldn’t have ran first with the amount of MLP shit you dragged over when we got an apartment together-”

“-It was a different time!” Michael protested, grin unavoidable. “I fucking changed. What happened to you?”

“I like to think I’m pretty top.”

“ _I ly-k to thynk i-ym pre’tty top._ ” Michael mimicked teasingly. Gavin poked his tongue out, folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Oh yeah- loveable sentiments like that _really_ keep my fingers crossed for year three.” He sneered, sipping from his glass. Michael’s expression shifted into one of mock-shock, dimpled cheeks (as always) giving away his amusement.

“Why- Gavin Free, are you dumping me?” he asked incredulously. Gavin’s face split into a grin.

“Maybe I am.” He sat up, tugging at the lapels of his blazer. “I’m done with you, boi. Completely over it.”

“Sure.” Michael smirked. “I’d like to see you last a day without me.”

Gavin sat back, and for once- didn’t jibe back. He looked at Michael, raking his eyes over every inch of his beautiful face. There were a thousand things about Michael he loved, and trying to remember every one of them would probably take longer than the waiter did to bring out their food in the first place. It hadn’t mattered at the time- waiting so long, because Michael had been there to talk to and wind up and laugh with the whole time.

“What, I got something on my face?”

“No.” Gavin shook his head, smiling dumbly. “I just really love you. That’s all.”

Michael’s shit-eating grin took over once again. It amazed Gavin how often Michael was found to be shouting. Even in his angriest moments, spat over a microphone and broadcasted to all their fans- Gavin could pick out the smile in his voice from a mile away.

“You really do?” Michael asked. Gavin nodded.

“All the way to the bloody moon. Further than that even.”

That was when Michael leant across the table, smile wider and softer than ever. “You know what Gav?” he asked. Gavin mimicked the movement, leaning across the table on his elbows.

“What?” he whispered. Michael’s eyes narrowed.

“I love you to the moon- and _back_.”


	2. (Turnwood) Day Two: Watching TV/A Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Meg squabble over who chooses the movie.

Day Two: Watching TV/A Movie – Turnwood

 

 

“I _always_ pick the movie.” Meg complained, leaning back against the couch with a pout on her face and her arms folded tightly across her chest. “What if I’ve ran out of movies I like?”

“Really?” Ryan asked with a quirked brow. “You can’t think of another single movie you like- in history?”

“Well… I suppose we could watch Rambo again-”

“-You have a _fetish_ for Sylvester Stallone that I feel we really need to talk about.”

“Hey!” Meg laughed, kicking Ryan gently with her foot. “He’s hot!”

Ryan caught her ankle in his hand easily, and pressed a kiss to the bottom of her foot until Meg was squirming and giggling.

“He is _not_ hot!”

“I’d do him.” Meg jutted her chin out at him, resting her legs back in his lap comfortably. “I’d do Sylvester Stallone and there would be no way you would stop me.”

“That’s the fetish talking.” Ryan pointed the control lazily at the television, sifting through the endless recommended crap that Netflix had to offer them. “It’s not a fetish.” Meg mumbled defensively, sitting up and crawling to the other end of the couch so she could instead sit beside him, head rested on his shoulder. Ryan lifted his arm as soon as she did so, effectively cradling her in a soft, comfortably embrace. Meg smiled up at him.

“Seriously though. Pick something for God’s sake.”

“I don’t know what I _like_ -”

“-You are _so_ indecisive.” She laughed, snatching the control away from Ryan, who remained pliant as ever as it slipped from his fingers. “I’m putting _Daredevil_ on because otherwise we’re going to argue about movies for the rest of the evening.”

“Aw.” Ryan pouted, red swirling in his eyes as he watched the buffering circle on the screen. “I like arguing about movies with you.”

Meg ignored how adorable Ryan sounded, and dug him in the waist with her elbow as forcefully as she could whilst still being cradled in his arms.  “You like accusing me of having fetishes for one of the greatest actors of all time.”

“I would _not_ say that at all.” Ryan exclaimed. “I mean really- _best_ actor? Are you deaf, blind, both- or just crazy?”

Meg shifted so she could stare up at him, and pouted. “You’re mean.” She said.

Ryan’s face broke into a grin, and Meg couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “We’re so ridiculous.” She said, as Ryan’s deep chuckle faded into its higher drop off. “Yep.” He nodded. “At least we can be ridiculous together.”

As the TV finally loaded up the next episode of _Daredevil_ , Meg snuggled further into Ryan’s side and grinned to herself at the thought.


	3. (Raywood) Day Three: Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Ryan visit their friends at the pool.

Day Three: Pool – Raywood

 

 

“Ray Narvaez Jr- by the _pool_? What’s going on?!” Michael rose from his seat dramatically, looking around in a state of sarcastic confusion. “Is this it?” he looked up to the sky, arms outstretched and trembling. “Is the world over?”

“Fuck off.” Ray pouted, arms folded over his chest as Michael’s dramatic façade dissolved into harsh laughed. “Ryan forced me to come.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask about your sex life! Gross.”

“Hilarious.”

Ray hated the water. He could swim, but that only came from lessons enforced on him by his elementary school at a young age. Aside from those experiences, Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten into a pool.

At least not voluntarily.

Ryan was not the lightest of people, nor the most graceful- so when he patted Ray on the back a little too close to the pool, in those mere moments before sudden death (or at least getting uncomfortably wet) Ray was only thankful he’d kept all his stuff in his bag instead of his pockets.

“Oops.” He heard as he surfaced. Ryan was stood at the edge of the pool, Michael and Lindsay beside him with tears running down their faces from laughter, with a guilty expression on his face and a can of diet coke clutched awkwardly in his hand.

Ray rubbed his eyes and spat out the water that had forced itself into his mouth. Thankfully, Ryan had only accidentally sent him diving into the relatively shallow end where his feet could comfortably touch the floor. Ray watched with a large frown as his glasses floated across the water in front of him.

After a few seconds of silence (bar Michael, Lindsay’s _and_ now Gavin’s laughter- seriously, when had that asshole arrived and pulled his obnoxiously oversized phone out?) Ryan ran forwards to bend down and pull Ray out and into the drive.

He glowered at them all as he struggled out of his T-shirt and kicked off his soaked shoes. Ryan placed a towel over his shoulders.

“There.” He rubbed at Ray’s wet hair gently. “Good as new.” He hesitated, focused on Ray’s furious expression. “Please don’t kill me?”

“No promises.” Ray mumbled.

“Bloody hell Ray- you look like a drowned rat!” Gavin laughed, phone slipped back in the pocket of his equally obnoxious tight shorts. He slapped Ray on the shoulder, still laughing and shook him slightly.

Ray didn’t even think about it. He shifted his weight just enough, so Gavin was the next sent tumbling into the water, IPhone and all.

“Wha- Ray!” He yelled, shaking his mop of dark hair out of his face as he yanked his phone from his pocket. “I- You owe me a new phone!”

The laughter on Michael and Lindsay’s half doubled at that point, as a flustered Gavin began to shake the phone as if the water would just fly on out. Ray turned to look at Ryan, who cracked a grin.

“Feel better?”

Ray smiled. “Most definitely.”

“So…” Ryan looked down at Gavin again, who was trying to clamber out of the pool as Michael continuously shoved him back in. “I’m off the hook?” he asked. Ray’s smile spread into a grin, and slowly, he shook his head.

“If I were you.” He said quietly, hand fanning over Ryan’s left peck as he tiptoed up to talk lowly in Ryan’s ear. “I’d watch your back.” He warned.

Ryan’s face appeared torn between blushing and paling as Ray drew away with a smirk, turning back to the scene Michael and Gavin were making as Lindsay filmed. She tilted her camera up to face him and he grinned into the lens.

“Hey-” he shook his head like a puppy, so water flicked around them at all angles. “click my fucking idiot boyfriend to see more,” he pointed behind him at Ryan, who gave a guilty wave. “And don’t forget to like an subscribe.” He added, to focused on the camera to see nor hear Geoff approach him from behind, shoving him without warning and sending him tumbling right back into the pool.

 


	4. (Mavin) Day Four: Snowed In

Day Four: Snowed In

 

 

“You’ve got to be fucking _kidding_ me.”

Gavin groaned as Michael’s sharp voice penetrated the bundled little cocoon of bedsheets he had created around himself. He did enjoy the mornings when Michael lounged around beside him and he got the chance to cuddle for a few minutes or so- but his favourite mornings were the ones where Michael would get up hours before what Gavin considered a decent time and leave for the gym. Gavin would wrap himself up in the bed and revel in the warmth until Michael came back home and forced him to get up with loving promises of violence.

A lovely, standard morning in the Jones-Free household.

Gavin squinted as he peered at the clock on the nightstand, which flashed _06:45_. Michael had usually left for the gym by now, or at least gone out for a run or made himself breakfast. He sat up slowly and saw him, standing up, undressed, peering outside their bedroom window with a dumbfounded frown on his face.

“What?” Gavin mumbled. Michael looked over and nodded to the window.

“C’mere.”

“Michael- I’m _sleeping-”_

“-Come _here_ , you fuck.” Michael turned around and waved Gavin over, who after a few protesting huffs stood up with the bedcovers wrapped around him, and hobbled over to stand beside Michael at the window. He blinked a few times, and his sleepy vision cleared.

“Oh.” He swallowed around the dryness of his mouth. “Fuck.”

“Yup.” Michael nodded, hands on hips. “ _Snow_. I thought Austin was supposed to be _hot_?”

The small scene outside their bedroom window was like a _Bob Ross_ painting come to life. Snow covered every inch of Austin, coating the damp grey pavements and resting on the roofs of the houses opposite theirs. Branches of trees hung low from the added weight, and faintly, if he squinted, Gavin could make out tiny icicles hanging from the top of their window.

“This is bloody _mental_!” he was well awake now, leaning forwards to peer further outside before grabbing Michael’s phone and checking the weather forecast. “This says there’s bloody half a foot of it! The roads are all closed!”

“No fucking gym for me.” Michael huffed, folding his arms across his front. He looked over to Gavin. “Or _work_ , I guess?”

“Guess not.” Gavin agreed. He straightened his back so he and Michael were shoulder to shoulder, and turned to give his boyfriend a smile. “Back to bed?”

Michael smirked, and nodded. “Fuck yeah, dude. I’m not moving all day.”


	5. (Raywood) Day Five: Fight

Day Five: Fight – Raywood

The atmosphere in the Achievement Hunter was incredibly tense the day after Ryan and Ray’s very explosive, very public fight. They hadn’t even arrived together that particular morning- Ryan had shown up around nine to a silent Geoff and Jack, watching him cautiously and silently screaming at the other to say something. Ray had trailed in over an hour later, after Michael and Gavin with a thunderous expression and his purple hoodie held up over his dark beanie.

“So… do you, uh, wanna record GTA?” Geoff tried. Everyone quietly anticipated who would speak first.

“I don’t care.” Ray eventually mumbled.

“I’ve got editing to do.” Ryan added after a few seconds. “But feel free to record without me.”

The incident had occurred the day before, in the middle of the very public Rooster Teeth kitchen. Ray had been acting pissy with Ryan all week, and the gent couldn’t quite figure out why. He’d very publicly talked about it with the other Achievement Hunters, and Ray had inevitably ended up walking in on himself being discussed by his co-workers.

He’d stormed out, Ryan not far behind him tugging on his arm and begging for Ray to stop for two seconds and actually _tell_ him what was wrong rather than just waiting for him to figure it out. By the time Ray came to a stop, Ryan yanking him rather forcefully, they’d made it into the kitchen.

A few others were standing around, watching with concern on their faces but trying not to be too nosy. Purely for the integrity of the assholes he’d decided to hire and their future recordings in the coming weeks, Geoff had followed, dragging Michael and Gavin with him.

“I’m fucking warning you Ryan. Don’t _touch_ me.” Ray was almost growling, pushing Ryan roughly away from him. Geoff froze when he saw Ryan’s fists clench. He’d only seen Ryan angry a handful of times- he was a particularly docile kind of guy, and never really looked at Ray with anything except for complete, sweltering love in his eyes.

“What did I do wrong?” he asked. Ray’s gaze narrowed further.

“You _really_ don’t know?”

“Obviously not.” Ryan’s teeth were gritted. Ray folded his arms defensively over his chest.

“Eat _shit_.” Came his articulate reply, rolling his eyes after a questionable pause and ducking out underneath Ryan’s arm. He stormed out of the kitchen, down the hall and through the building’s exit. Ryan reached out to grab him, but Ray could be particularly elusive and slippery when he needed to. For a second, Geoff wondered if Ryan was going to sprint after him, but instead he remained standing in the kitchen. He sighed, deeply, and leant back against the counter with his hands over his face.

“You alright, Rye?” Gavin asked, as Michael left the room to chase after Ray.

“Yeah.” Ryan huffed, but he didn’t look particularly angry anymore, hands dragging the skin of his face down slowly. “I’ll… talk to him later.”

Geoff guessed the following morning that “later” hadn’t gone so well.

“Dude, this is bad.” Jack said. Ray had left to go and get lunch with Kerry, and Ryan was off filming The Patch. They all turned and looked at Michael, hoping he’d provide them with some kind of answers- but all he did was shrug.

“Look, he wouldn’t tell me shit. Only that he wants to fucking sock Ryan in the face and Ryan probably wants to strangle him. Aside from that, he wasn’t particularly talkative.”

“We can fix this though, right?” Geoff asked, sounding more than unsure.

“Not ours to fix.” Gavin replied. “Ray and Ryan will have to figure it out themselves. It’s none of our business, is it?”

“It is my fucking business when we can’t record the six thousand videos we need to record before this week ends.” Geoff snapped, but he didn’t make effort to move, knowing that Gavin was probably right. “I’ll give them a couple days. If they don’t sort shit out- I’m intervening.”

Nobody wanted to imagine what that would entail- so silently, they hoped for a quick resolution.


	6. (Raywood) Day Six: Grocery Shopping

Day Six: Grocery Shopping – Raywood

 

 

 

Ray batted his eyelashes, lower lip jutting out in a pretty pout that he knew Ryan could never resist.

“Please?” he asked, clutching the 100+ bag of jumbo, extra-large marshmallows. Ryan glared at him. “Please, I’ll do anything!” Ray whined. “I’ll suck your dick, dude. That’s real _love_ I’m offering you.”

“You do that anyway.” Ryan snatched the bag back, laying it back on the the shelf where it belonged. “And _you_ asked me to make sure you eat healthy. What is a jumbo bag of marshmallows gonna do to help that?”

“I went to the gym twice this week.” Ray countered, circling back around Ryan and the cart to grab the giant bag again. “Now this is my cheat day!” he hugged the marshmallows to his chest as they walked along the isles until Ryan came to a disapproving stop, but subtly, Ray could see he was growing on side.

“You’re gonna yell at me for weeks after tonight when you eat fifty of these marshmallows and throw up.” He pointed out, but a small smile was playing on his lips. Ray grinned.

“Shut up. Like you won’t be inhaling the other fifty as soon as I open the packet.” He rolled his eyes, throwing the packet into the cart on top of the rest of their groceries.

“I probably will.” Ryan admitted with a laugh. “We suck. We’re the worst at being healthy.”

“Oh shit look,” Ray pointed at the end of the aisle. “Fucking oreos are on special. I’m getting six packs.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I hate you.”

Ryan looked over to Ray, who was laid back on the couch with his head dangling over the arm-rest, hands cradling his slightly rounded stomach. He bit back a laugh.

“You did this to yourself and you know it.”

Ray raised his middle finger, and Ryan made his way over to the couch, flopping down besides him. He lifted Ray’s feet first, before letting them fall back into his lap. Ray didn’t seem to mind.

“Seriously. I ate a whole sleeve of oreos and like… a thousand marshmallows. I think my stomach is going to explode.” Ray groaned. “Never let me do that again.”

“I’ll do my best.” Ryan patted his knee affectionately. “Now… are there any of those marshmallows left or…?”


	7. (Mavin) Day Seven: Being Drunk/High Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever stop writing ExtraLife Mavin fics? Probably not.

Day Seven: Being Drunk/High Together - Mavin

 

 

“ _Gavin!”_

Everyone giggled as Michael stumbled across the podcast set, reaching for Gavin when his back was turned. Gavin was almost equally as drunk himself- he and Michael foolishly putting _Team Nice Dynamite cocktail chug_ on the Wheel of Destiny and watching as it was selected not once, not twice, but three times. The Team Nice Dynamite cocktail was whipped up by Texas, the _Always Open_ bartended as an Extra Life treat, and Michael could feel the alcohol clinging bitterly to his throat. He’d done three. Gavin had done two and a half. Michael may or may not have then finished Gavin’s other half.

“Mi- _cool, No!”_ Gavin screamed as Michael barrelled into him, lifting Gavin in the air and tossing him several feet onto the beanbag, still left sitting from one of their earlier stunts. Gavin giggled as he landed, before being approached again by Michael who flopped down on top of him. Gavin coughed as he did so- for a moment everyone jeered, thinking he would puke (again). They’d had a _ridiculous_ amount of alcohol.

“Take your shirt off! I’m gonna paint you!” Michael demanded, scrambling for the acrylics that they had left over from the _Bob Ross_ hour. Gavin complied like a docile cat, wriggling out of his T-Shirt and rolling over so he was laid flat on his front. Michael dragged him over by the wrists into the middle of the floor, Gavin yelling as the carpet rubbed against his hairy stomach. Then, once Michael was satisfied with his position he straddled Gavin’s hips and leant forwards, painting a thick line of red on his back.

“What’s it gonna be, Michael?” Jack asked.

“Fuckin… _Team Nice Dynamite_ flag. Duh!” Michael slurred as Gavin wriggled underneath him, shifting to get more comfortable. “Stay still, you asshole!” Michael giggled, holding him down. Eventually, Gavin went limp, and flopped on the floor. He mumbled something so incomprehensibly, Michael had to lean forwards and loudly ask him to repeat it, several times.

“ _Said,_ I _love_ you- _Micool_!” Gavin eventually yelled, voice still muffled slightly by the carpet. Michael grinned. “Love you too Gavvy. You make an excellent canvas.”

“Not every day you get to paint your best friend.” Someone, perhaps Barbara said. Perhaps, if they’d been sober, they would’ve remembered that the thousands of fans watching and donating had no idea they were actually _together_ , past extensive speculation. Perhaps, they would’ve even remembered that hardly anyone at the company even knew, bar a few Achievement Hunters.

“Boyfriend!” both he and Gavin corrected, loudly and in sync. As if to prove his point, Michael leant down and kissed Gavin’s head softly.

“Boyfriend?” Someone else asked. Michael gasped, as Gavin craned his neck to look around and cover his mouth, like he couldn’t quite believe either of them.

“Oops.” Michael giggled.

“Guess that cat’s out the bloody bag.”

“Three months! Still going strong.” Michael fist pumped the air, laughing as the rest of their co-workers looked around dumbfoundedly at each other, like they couldn’t quite figure out if the pair were joking or not.

“Fuck all you guys…” Michael wobbled slightly from his position above Gavin, before rolling off so he was laid beside him. Then, he leant forwards and kissed Gavin directly on the lips. Gavin rolled onto his back and Michael pulled away with a wild cry.

“Gavin, no!” he yelled. “My painting! You fucking _moron_!”


	8. (Turnwoo) Day Eight: High School!AU

Day Eight: High School!AU – Turnwood

 

 

“There he is, look!”

Lindsay whipped her head around, red hair fanning outward as Meg pointed across the cafeteria at Ryan Haywood, captain of the football team. He had rolled in with the rest of his group, red letterman’s practically sparking in the dull, cafeteria lights. Lindsay didn’t see the appeal much of the jock ethos, but Meg was completely entranced from where she sat, hands gripped tightly together as she stared over.

The jocks started their usual horseplay, Jeremy, Michael and Gavin shoving each other around as they headed into their seats. Geoff and Jack hung around, talking loudly and laughing. Ryan was the only one silent, pensive as he led the group over to their normal table.

“He isn’t _all_ _that_.” Lindsay rolled her eyes and Meg pouted. “Oh, come on! Captain of the football team? Could he _be_ more of a stereotype?”

“Ryan’s _different_.” Meg smiled, still staring over as Ryan quietly took his seat. “He’s… _mature_.”

“We’re theatre nerds, Meg. Theatre nerds don’t _fuck_ jocks.”

“Says who!?” Meg exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. “This isn’t a fucking teen movie Linds. Groups mingle all the time, and the jocks don’t strictly fuck the cheerleaders. Besides, Ryan read aloud a passage from Othello in English the other day. It was _captivating._ ”

“Oh it was _captivating_?” Lindsay teased. “You’re such a cliché. I’ll bet you twenty dollars you won’t go up there right now and ask him out.”

A sparkle twinkled in Meg’s eyes, and a small grin spread across her face. “Oh really?” she asked daringly, standing straight up from her seat. “You’re about to eat your words, Tuggey.”

“You don’t get the twenty dollars if he says no!” Lindsay shouted after her, Meg flipping her off as her skirt twirled around her thighs. She walked briskly over to the table designated to the “Achievement Hunters” as the gym coach had labelled them. She couldn’t deny that yes, her heart _was_ hammering underneath her pink shirt- but there was the few scraps of confidence lying in the parts she hadn’t told Lindsay about before the bet was propositioned.

Because yeah, Ryan was a jock, but he was unapologetically a theatre nerd too.

Meg had seen him, snooping around as she and the other members of the drama club started mapping out their plans for the next big school production: _Hairspray._ Curiously, she’d approached him, and he’d offered his services to build some sets. She’d dug deeper, plagued him with questions, and eventually he’d confessed that he did have history with acting and performing. He could even _sing_ , she’d learnt after begging him over FaceTime.

So, they’d grown close over the last few weeks. They were even friends, she was pretty sure of. But Meg knew that not-so-deep-down, she _liked_ Ryan in more than friend way, and she wasn’t going to just sit around like the damsel in distress and wait for him to realise.

“Hey Ryan!” her voice didn’t even shake as she approached the table, and six pairs of eyes looked over to her. “Hey… guys. Sorry if I’m interrupting anything… I’m Meg.”

Small, coy smiles and unreadable glances passed between the other five members of the group.

“Right.” Geoff eventually said. “Meg Turney. Ryan hasn’t shut up about you.” He elbowed Ryan in the ribs, who turned to glare at him.

“Ha-ha.” Meg laughed awkwardly. “That’s cool, I guess. Sort of puts me less on edge for the reason I came over here like this.”

Ryan frowned. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Is this about the musical?”

“No- actually, it’s about you. And me! I-uh, sorry, I’m being such a dork about this but… I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to like… go out sometimes. Like a date? Get a burger or whatever?”

Ryan was frozen. The rest of the group all seemed to lean in, anxiously awaiting his reply.

“I mean, you don’t have to-”

“YES!” Ryan blurted out, making everyone at the table flinch. “Sorry.” He recoiled slightly, awkwardly looking up at Meg, who was still stood before the table. “I-uh, yes. I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

A grin spread across Meg’s face. “Awesome!” she said, before turning around and looking over to Lindsay, who was still sat at their table with a hopeful look on her face. “You owe me twenty dollars, you bitch!”

Lindsay yelled something equally obscene back, and held up both her middle fingers, laughing wildly. After a brief victory dance, Meg whipped back around to face the table of jocks, who were all laughing at the display. Except Ryan, who was simply watching with a small, amused smile.

“So…” she asked. “Saturday good for you?”


	9. (Raywood) Day Nine: Playing Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favourite chapter of this whole thing lmao.

Day Nine: Playing Games – Raywood

 

“You know, when you said game night I was imagining something a _lot_ different.”

Ryan grinned as he held the thin box between his hands, settling it down on the coffee table. Ray was pouting, slumping and  huffing loudly to make his complete displeasure very obvious as Ryan unfolded the monopoly board and set out the pieces, but his efforts went ignored. If there was one thing Ray hated, it had to be monopoly- despite the fact that it was one of Ryan’s favourite games.

“Look, my New Years Resolution was to get you to like this.” Ryan said, handing Ray his small stack of cash, which he took with a bitter pout. “ _Come_ on. It’ll be fun.”

“It’s _not_ going to be fun.” Ray rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. “But… it’s you, so I’ll play the stupid fucking game. I'm not gonna promise to like it though.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Three spaces and that’s… yep… you’ve landed on park place.” Ryan gritted his teeth as he watched his tiny metal hat between Ray’s agile fingers creep across the threshold to the blue space, where his immaculately placed red hotels stood.

“Fuck!” Ryan clutched the few dollar bills he had remaining to his chest, leaning back against the sofa. “How! Why am I so _screwed?”_

“Dude.” Ray was giggling, flicking through his own stack of crisp hundred-dollar-bills. “You were right. This game is pretty fun.”

“I can’t even afford to pay!” Ryan slammed the dollars down onto the board, barely covering half the cost of the extortionate rent he owed to Ray. Huffing, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “You suck. This game sucks. I _hate_ monopoly.”

“Aw, Rye!” Ray laughed again but softer, and joined Ryan on the sofa. He reached up to hold Ryan’s pouting face between his and climbed into his lap, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s broad shoulders, which he began to rub gently. “Don’t cry. I tell you what, as I’m such a generous landlord, I _will_ accept sexual favours rather than money to cover the cost of your rent.”

“Really?” Ryan raised an eyebrow, sitting up so he was more level with Ray’s face. He leant forwards and kissed his neck. “Well then I’m sure I could make it up to you in some way.” His hands curled around Ray’s waist and grabbed him in handfuls, but Ray didn’t melt into his touch like he usually did. “What’s wrong?” Ryan then asked, leaning back. Somewhat shyly, Ray looked away, over his shoulder.

“Ray?”

“It’s nothing… just- I sort of… I was really close to nailing that last green space, you know? And then I would’ve had four monopolies and I’ve been strategically saving cash every to buy hotels, and-”

“Oh my god you _liked_ it!” Ryan cut him off with a triumphant yell, grinning as Ray refused to meet his eye, a blush lighting up his cheeks. “You enjoyed monopoly. I win!”

“Alright, don’t be an ass about it.” Ray huffed, crossing his arms. “It was sort of fun once I got into it. That’s all you’re getting.”

Of course, after they’d finished having great sex on the living room couch and packed up the monopoly board, Ray had shoved it into a high-up shelf inside a closet and swore Ryan to secrecy, begging him to never tell the rest of the guys that they’d played monopoly, and worse- enjoyed it.

“I’m serious, Rye. You tell a single soul and I’m telling them about how you were a male model in the nineties.”

Ryan held his hands up. “Secret’s safe with me, baby.”


	10. (Turnwood) Day Ten: Reckless Driving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GTA!AU

Day Ten: Reckless Driving – Turnwood GTA

 

 

 

 

Ryan had always liked the look of the rain.

It didn’t happen often, Los Santos being a historically dry city, but occasionally the heavens did open and months and months of stored up rainfall would descend on the world he lived in. It was particularly pretty, somehow, watching dark clouds swarm above the roofs of high sky-scrapers. On the rare occasion, it did rain, he would catch himself staring out of the penthouse windows for far too long, watching the rainwater run down the glass from the ceiling to the floor.

However, on this particular occasion when the sky did decide to drown the city, he wasn’t in the penthouse at all.

“Oh my _God_ we’re gonna die!” he reached across the car to grab at the wheel, but Meg simply smirked and batted his hand away.

“Re- _lax_ , you big baby!” she laughed, taking another particularly sharp turn as they made their way up the narrow path that ascended Mt. Chilliad. “We’ll be fine. It’s just a little rain.” She turned to face him, batting her eyelashes. Ryan reached across his chest roughly and snatched his seatbelt over his body.

“You’re crazy!”

“You love it.” She winked.

“Meg- _jesus_ that was a big rock!” One large hand smacked against the window of the supercar as the car rolled over a stone and rocked side to side. From his passenger seat, it looked as if they were hanging off the edge, only the rocky mountain visible below. Meg simply continued to laugh, and continued pushing the car to her limits as they fought their way up the mountain. Ryan swallowed thickly as the rain continued to streak down the windscreen.

“We’re almost at the top.” She said, hunching forwards slightly as if _that_ was going to give them any more control than the little they already had, pushing against the accelerator pedal. There was a reason Ryan didn’t let anyone in the crew drive his car; they were all too reckless and irresponsible, and nobody really knew how the Zentorno handled (bar maybe Jack) except him. However, Meg usually found her way past his little rules, and that was the reason he hadn’t protested when she slipped into the driver’s side and began adjusting her seat like she belonged there.

Perhaps she did. They weren’t dead yet.

“Here we are!” Finally, Ryan could relax despite his heartrate hammering like a hummingbird’s. Meg slowed the car to a stop at the top of the mountain and switched the engine off. From their new position parked, Ryan could watch the rainfall streaking down the windscreen in the same way he longed for it inside the penthouse. It was beautiful, even with the windscreen wipers pushing it away relentlessly.

“You thought _that_ was scary,” Meg pushed her hair backwards away from her face, and reached across his lap to retrieve a deck of cigarettes from the glove compartment. She slid one into her mouth smoothly, and lit it with a match pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket. He caught eyes with her in the rear-view mirror, and marvelled at how they sparkled with mischief. “Imagine the way down.”


	11. (Raywood) Day Eleven: Spy!AU

Day Eleven: Spy!AU - Raywood

 

 

The bar was vast, old oak wood bleeding into the lush red velvet carpets, fancy looking bottles that Ray couldn’t even begin to attempt to pronounce adorning the shelves behind. The bartenders were equally fancy looking- all white men of a similar age that wasn’t-young-but-wasn’t-old with dark hair and grey, shapeless eyes. They were dressed sharply in white tuxedos, with white gloves covering their hands and red roses pinned to their lapels.

They were the perfect staffing team, for a psychopath. The psychopath in question (A man known only as _Wynter_ ) was Ray’s target.

Ray sighed, nursing a glass of whiskey that repulsed him every time he brought it near enough to his lips where he could catch scent of it. He didn’t intend on drinking much of it, it was more for show, to blend in. That was his job after all- to be unassuming, unremarkable, and most importantly: completely forgettable. There was nothing forgettable about a grown man ordering a glass of Dr Pepper at a private bar.

His preferred job usually involved parking himself up on a roof and assembling his rifle, before spending a few minutes searching through the scope until he aligned it with his targets head, pulling the trigger clean and easy before packing his shit and high-tailing it home. Maybe he and Ryan would watch a movie- if his boyfriend wasn’t busy in Russia or infiltrating some kind of drug smuggling ring. Most of the time, the agency didn’t book them jobs that conflicted with the other’s schedule, so most nights (or days or weeks) Ray was working, he could almost always count on the fact that Ryan would be home waiting for him.

“Come here often?” a voice breathed down his neck.

 _Almost_.

Ray gritted his teeth, but did his best not to look startled as he turned around and faced Ryan, who was grinning at him with a can of diet coke in his hand. He was wearing an expensive grey suit- Ray recognised it from the last mission they did together where they had to pose as Swiss investment bankers. It had been a pretty successful mission- and they managed to finish it just in time for their anniversary, which was subsequently spent in a luxury hotel in Zurich.

“What are you doing here?” Ray asked, doing his best to look casual. They were just two strangers, meeting in a bar for the first time. Nothing suspicious at all.

“Geoff figured you could use some help. I offered up my services.” Ryan smiled. Ray rolled his eyes.

“I’m doing just fine on my own, thanks.”

“Oh really?” Ryan cocked a perfectly arched brow. “Well, as far as I’m aware, you’ve been doing “recon” for the last five days. Why haven’t you offed the wrinkly fucker yet?” he leant further into Ray, lowering his voice significantly after a few innocently curious glances were shot their way by one of the servers.

“If you must know.” Ray sipped his drink, and grimaced at the bitter, choking flavour. Ryan chuckled quietly beside him. “I met with Mr Wynter already. He liked the look of me and invited me here for a _date_.” His eyes sparkled when he looked at Ryan, who was instantly dumbfounded. Ray resisted the urge to laugh at his expression.

“Well then.” Ryan swallowed, quickly regaining his perfectly poised composure. “Trading me in for an older model?”

“Richer too.” Ray smirked. “But don’t worry. I promise to kill him _before_ he has his sordid, dirty way with me.” he batted his eyelashes, and thankfully, Ryan grinned.

“My mistake.” He said, taking a step away as Mr Wynter approached the bar. Ray was glad Ryan was alert, because he hadn’t even noticed the creepy fucker enter the room. “Seems you have much higher standards than a simple banker like me.” he turned, looking into Mr Wynter’s cool, grey eyes and smiled. “Sir,” he nodded shaking his stiff wrinkled hand. “McHanten. We met at… Tracey’s event? The charity thing?”

Mr Wynter frowned, but humans tend to have a way of desperately wanting to fit in, so despite there being almost no accuracy in Ryan’s statement, he nodded. “Yes, I remember. Good to see you again. Business or pleasure?”

“Just passing through.” Ryan held his hands up, and turned to shoot a wink at Ray. “Saw this lovely young man at the bar and thought I’d try my luck, but it seems his affections are held by another.”

“Quite right too.” Mr Wynter’s face was pensive, flat. “Raymond, if you will.” He extended an arm, which Ray took, slipping from the stool and abandoning his drink on the bar. “Good day, Mr McHanten.”

Ryan gave them both a broad smile. “Good day to both of you.”


	12. (Mavin) Day Twelve: Christmas Decorating

Day Twelve: Christmas Decorating 

 

 

“Michael, love, not to sound like a dick or anything- but you do realise it’s November the twenty-eight?”

Michael looked over from where he was stood in the centre of their living room, dragging a heavy box stuffed with Christmas decorations that jingled with every step along with him. Once it was set where he needed it, he did his best to catch his breath and placed his hands on his hips.

“Never too early for the most magical time of year, asshole!” He huffed, breathy and pained-sounding as leant down to rip the box open with the box cutter attached to his keys. “You’re lucky I haven’t gone and bought a tree yet. Denise has got hers up already back home.”

“ _What!”_

“Christmas starts early in the Jones house, dickweed.” Michael pulled a single, plastic red bauble from the box. He curled his fist around it, and tossed it in Gavin’s. He grinned wickedly as it bounced off his boyfriend’s chest (much to his surprise) and rolled onto the floor. Gavin pretended to glare at him. Michael’s grin didn’t falter. “’Tis the fucking season!”

“You’re _mental_.” Gavin sounded fond, lounging back on the sofa scrolling through his phone as he watched Michael sort through sparkling tinsel and strings of lights. “I’m tweeting about this.” He held his phone up, snapping a few photos. “The world needs to know how absolutely ridiculous you are. Bloody Christmas!”

“You know, for a culture that doesn’t have the gluttonous joy that is Thanksgiving, I’d assume you British fuckers would start the Christmas shit the moment Halloween ended.”

“No way!” Gavin laughed. “I mean, shops start putting up their displays and Christmas adverts start on the telly, but people don’t start bloody _decorating_. You’re a _maniac_!”

“Fuck you, grinch.” Michael flipped him off, before tossing a plush Santa at him. It took Gavin again by surprise, but this time he went as far as to roll backwards, falling off the sofa and hitting the floor with a dull thud. Michael threw his head back as he toppled, laughter roaring from his chest. Gavin cupped his _banged knee_ and complained that Michael was absolutely _no help_ \- but it didn’t stop his laughter.

“That’s what you get for having no Christmas spirit.” Michael grinned. “And just so you know- I’m tweeting this.”

 

 

_14:27 @GavinFree:_

_I literally can’t believe I’m witnessing this. @AH_Michael is decorating our house and it’s not even December. Absolute nutter. _ _pic.twitter.com/p6ghs9z_

 

 

_14:38 @AH_Michael:_

_@GavinFree_ _has no Christmas spirit. The Christmas gods proceeded to fuck him up for complaining._ _pic.twitter.co/po329z0n_


	13. (Turnwood) Day Thirteen: Magical Powers

Day Thirteen: Magical Powers!AU - TURNWOOD

 

 

 

Meg had always thought the world had looked much better still.

Discovering her power to freeze time at the tender age of thirteen had changed the course of Meg’s life drastically. For lifetimes through teenage adolescent she would pause, have a cry, have a wander. See parts of the world she never thought she would, and be back in time for supper. Freezing time just _relaxed_ her, even now as an adult. Any time she felt particularly stressed or confused, she’d take a break for twenty minutes, an hour, a day. It didn’t matter how long- it just mattered that she could truly be alone in the world at a second’s notice.

People looked strange frozen.

Meg would often walk around the world slowly, staring at them. It was like the highest definition photo you could ever imagine, giving you stretches and stretches of seconds to take in every single detail of their faces. She loved it, but it did often make her uncomfortable after a while, so Meg would spend her time staring at the space around her instead, such as a single leaf mid-fall from a tree, a bee mid-flight in the air or a tossed Starbucks cup, mid-roll across the concrete.

The only rules of freezing time, as she had discovered through sheer trial and error over her many years of power was that nobody could see, hear or feel her and that she couldn’t permanently move anything. Whilst time was frozen, she could pick things up and use them, but as soon as time went back into motion they would snap back to the place she had grabbed them from, completely untouched.

Since moving to Austin, she hadn’t had much time to flex her powers. After a while of not using her powers, she would begin to feel a familiar faint tingling at the tips of her fingers. It would itch, be slightly irritating for a while and then eventually, she would satisfy herself and stop the earth’s rotation.

“Hey Meg, have you edite-” Ashley’s voice stopped short as the world froze around her. Meg took a deep breath, pushing away from her desk and standing up, stretching her back. Sometimes, even the simplest of things just felt better when they were slowed down. Her back popped satisfyingly, and without hesitation, Meg let out a faint, pleased groan.

“Feel good?”

Meg jumped out of her skin, like a spooked cat, before spinning round and coming face to face with Ryan Haywood. He was one of the famed Achievement Hunters, and although she’d only been in Austin for little over a month, they’d gotten to know each other fairly well from their time together over at The Patch. Meg liked Ryan- she liked how awkward he was, how funny he was, how clever he was. Already, the rest of the Achievement Hunters had begun teasing them both about their growing friendship, and Meg couldn’t lie and say she didn’t get the slightest thrill whenever Ryan looked away and blush.

So maybe she liked him a little bit. That didn’t mean she was prepared to see him, walking and talking when everything was supposed to be paused.

“What the…?” she trailed off, taking an unsure step towards him. Ryan looked casual as ever, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He looked around briefly, before shrugging.

“You do this?”

Silently, Meg nodded.

“Cool.” He said. “Cool power. I do this too sometimes. Didn’t think I’d ever meet anyone else who could.”

“Y- _you_ can _freeze time_?”

Ryan’s brow furrowed. “… _Yes?_ You can too- right?”

“I-uh, yeah! I can.” Meg nodded again, awkwardly and stiffly. “I just- I’ve never met anyone else who could… do this.” She looked around the space, Ashley paused by her desk with her pretty lips half formed around a word. Ryan seemed unfazed, and walked over to her desk to lean against it, beside her.

“You’re really good.” He said, and Meg smiled. “Like, usually I have to really concentrate to get a perfect freeze like this. When I lose focus things just go really slow instead.”

“I’ve only ever been able to freeze.” She told him. “You can _slow_ _things down_? That must be, like, _awesome_!”

“It’s pretty cool.” Ryan folded his arms, turning to smile at her. “It’s nice though, to meet someone else to share the experience with. If you ever want to just… take a sec- I’ll be here.”

“You know what Ryan?” Meg asked, small smile quickly growing into a grin as Ryan reached over, taking the pencil tucked behind Ashley’s ear before spinning it in-between his fingers. “I think we’re going to have the most wonderful time together, you and I.”


	14. (Mavin) Day Fourteen: Valentine's Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is their anniversary, after all.

Day Fourteen: Valentines Day - MAVIN

 

 

 

“Happy Anniversary!” Michael was awoken by Gavin’s sudden yell, eyes peeling open to see his boyfriend bound into their bedroom with arms full of stuff. It was all your typical mushy valentine’s garbage- the type that they both found so stupid but consistently bought for each other every year on the dreaded day. Overpriced nonsense spilled onto the bedsheets, and Michael could do nothing but smile, leaning forward to kiss Gavin on the lips.

“Flowers, chocolates, mushy audible card.” He opened the card, and Gavin’s recorded voice vibrated against his fingers _I love you, micool!_ Michael rolled his eyes, but rested it gently on their nightstand  with the rest of the lavish gifts. “I love that we still do this stupid shit.”

“Four years, hey?” Gavin climbed up on the bed beside him. “Four stupid valentines days.”

“ _So_ stupid.” Michael agreed. “I’m still gonna tweet you too. Tradition’s tradition.”

“And I’ll tweet you back. Then we’ll do a dumb livestream in Surgeon Simulator and everyone will love it. I’ll say something dumb and you’ll call me a fucking idiot and I’ll say, ‘but I’m _your_ idiot, Micool.’ Same old Valentines shit.”

They both went quiet, and after a few seconds Michael let out a sigh. “Are we becoming predictable?” he asked. Gavin stared at him.

“Uh… sort of. Is that a bad thing?” he asked, hesitantly. Michael shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m still happy. Are you?”

“Of course!”

“I like not-liking all this stupid mushy valentine’s shit still too.” He held up the red heart-shaped box of chocolates and waved it, Gavin nodding beside him.

“I like filming with you.” He said. “You know… when you call me and idiot and I say I love you. I still like doing all that. Is that weird?” Gavin leant back against the headboard, and Michael followed suit. “That still, after four years I _like_ all this crap?”

“I don’t know.” Michael shrugged. “Maybe… predictable isn’t a word we have to associate with bad all the time. I like predictable when it’s with you.”

“Aw, Michael!” Gavin cooed, giggling and he laid down and rested his head on Michael’s shoulder. “That was so cute and cheesy!”

“Whatever, asshole.” Michael shoved him lightly and then climbed out of the bed to stretch his aching limbs. “Time to go and be bombarded with the mavin well-wishers at work.”

“They ship us more than we ship us.” Gavin laid back on the bed, tilting his chin to look at Michael upside down with a grin. “It’s cute really.”

Michael laughed in response. “Fuck you, dickhead. I’m mavin as shit!”


	15. (Raywood) Day Fifteen: Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray gets a little insecure sometimes.

 

Day Fifteen: Cuddling – RAYWOOD

 

 

 

“Sometimes,” Ray whispered, “I get scared you’ll wake up and realise you don’t love me anymore.”

He wasn’t expecting the warm weight behind him to reply. “What?” Ryan asked, voice low and thick with sleep. Ray stiffened beside him. He hadn’t expected Ryan to actually be awake.

“Uh, nothing.” He shrugged out of the embrace, scooting over to his side of the bed. “I didn’t say anything. You’re asleep. Uh…this is a dream.”

“Ray.” Ray felt the bed shift as Ryan followed him across, and a hand touched his upper arm, gently coaxing him to lie on his back. Then, Ryan’s sleepy face was hovering above him, hair hanging in curtains over his face. He was frowning. “Why would you ever think that?”

“It’s nothing.” Ray insisted, looking away. “I was just being dumb. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t believe you.” Came Ryan’s reply. Slowly, he lowered himself back into a lying position, head tucked into the side of Ray’s face. He wrapped an arm around his middle and held him tightly. They were close enough that Ray could feel Ryan’s warm breath on his face. Still, he couldn’t relax. “Talk to me.” Ryan’s voice vibrated against his cheek, punctuated with a soft kiss and the light brush of a thumb over his forearm.

“It’s dumb.” Ray said, in a last-ditch attempt to deflect Ryan’s questioning and fall back into an insatiable half-sleep. Clearly, Ryan wasn’t having any of it.

“It’s not dumb. I love you more than anything. Why would you ever think different?”

Ray sighed. “I don’t know. I just… sometimes I wonder why you’re even with me, I guess. I am sort of the worst person to be in a relationship with, like, ever.” Gently, he felt Ryan smile against his neck and his body did finally begin to grow comfortable again. In truth, it had been a long, lonely night until Ryan decided to wake up and listen to his self-deprecating ramblings. Ray had a bad habit of talking aloud when he thought nobody was listening.

“You’re the best.” Ryan reassured him. “Even if sometimes you are the worst. You’re my worst, and I love you being the worst. You could be the worst person in the world and I’d still love you more than anything.” As if to prove his point, Ryan squeezed him a little tighter. Ray shifted so he was laid on his side and the two could face each other.

Ryan’s eyes were closed, but they flew open when sensing Ray’s face, only a few inches from his own.

“Do you really think that one day I’m just going to stop?” he asked. “Seriously? Just like that?”

Ray looked away. Ryan reached up and rested a hand on his face.

“Look at me.” he instructed. “Don’t _ever_ think that. Promise me you’ll stop thinking like that.”

He was oddly serious, and firm in his words. Ray was a little taken aback at how shaken Ryan appeared to be in that moment, eyes wild and bloodshot, grip slowly tightening. Quickly, he nodded, and Ryan’s hand relaxed against his face.

“I promise.” He whispered. “I’m sorry, it was stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” Ryan pulled him forwards gently, laying with his head back so Ray’s face could make itself comfortable against his. “Don’t be sorry for being insecure. Just promise you’ll tell me if you feel that way, rather than whispering it into the dark and hoping I don’t hear.”

Gently, Ray felt a kiss be pressed against his head. Words didn’t matter anymore. The gesture was enough to know for sure.

“I love you Ryan.” He mumbled, before yawning loudly. “And you love me too.”

He could practically hear the smile in Ryan’s voice. “There you go. That’s more like it.”


	16. (Turnwood) Day Sixteen: Halloween

Day Sixteen: Halloween – GTA Turnwood

 

“You really will do _anything_ she tells you, wont you?” Geoff sounded half amused, half disappointed as he stilled in the living room, staring at Ryan as he appeared from the corridor. His usually terrifying enough mercenary get-up was suddenly ten times as frightening, and fifty times as ridiculous-looking with a face painted ghostly white and his usually soft brown hair dripping a vibrant green around his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the shirt was unbuttoned down the middle, showing off an impressive (even by Geoff’s high _high_ standards) array of hand drawn tattoos. The markings spread up to his face too, punctuated by the word _dangerous_ , inked on his forehead.

“It’s Halloween.” Ryan shrugged, as if that was a simple enough answer to the (potentially) hundreds of dollars worth of costume that draped his body. “Meg loves Halloween.”

“You’re damn right, _pudding_.”

Geoff looked past Ryan and his eyes settled on Meg as she rounded the corner, dressed in her own scarily accurate Harley Quinn costume. She’d even gone to the length to spray the tips of her hair blue and pink, and a large, heavy-looking bat with a long rusty nail driven through the top was slung behind her back.

“Joker and Harley Quinn…” he hummed, folding his arms across his chest and staring at the two of them, Meg almost reaching Ryan’s neck with her high-heeled sneakers. “Original.”

“Shut up.” Meg rolled her eyes and pointed the bat at him. “It was too easy to pass up. We make the perfect couple of psychopaths.”

“Minus the abusive relationship part.” Ryan added. Meg nodded and grinned, before reaching back to grab her boyfriend by the hand, walking over towards the door. Geoff just watched them go with an amused smile, and Meg poked her tongue out when she caught eyes at him.

“C’mon Rye,” he heard her say as they left the apartment door swinging open, the distant clicking of her shoes leading down the corridor. “Let’s go steal Michael’s _Adder_ and drive it off the bridge.”


	17. (Mavin) Day Seventeen: Break Up/Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. This chapter really got away from me.

Day Seventeen: Break Up / Make Up – MAVIN

 

 

“I’ve fucking _had_ _it_ , Gavin!” Michael yelled, and it felt, as if in an instant, the entire apartment went silent. Gavin was frozen, stood in the doorway that lead to their bedroom, Michael was on the other side of the living room. Between them, lay a broken mug. “I’ve had _enough_ of this shit.” Michael whispered, and tears welled in his eyes.

Gavin still didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Michael wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.

“This is the last straw.” Michael squeezed his hands into fists, but unclenched them the moment Gavin’s body stiffened. He wasn’t sure if it was shock or fear- but then, he _had_ thrown that mug onto the ground and smashed it into a thousand pieces midway through the argument. But that didn’t mean- Gavin didn’t think he actually had _meant_ to hurt him, right?

Slowly, Gavin brought his hand up to his face. A tiny piece of porcelain had caught him across the cheek and made a tiny cut. They’d been expensive mugs. Michael considered Gavin’s face far more valuable.

“So that’s it then?” Gavin asked, quietly. “Me and you and… everything? It’s just… over, just like that?” he stepped forward, shoes crunching the broken mess further into the carpet. It was Michael’s turn to be still.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, one hand moving up to cover his mouth. He felt guilty for the angry words that had been hurled out of it moments ago- but then, that was all Gavin’s fault in the first place. Despite his persona, Michael didn’t like being angry for real. He _hated_ being angry at Gavin.

“Don’t cry, Michael.” Gavin said softly, walking over to touch his face and wipe the tears away with a light stroke of his thumb. Michael hadn’t even noticed them falling, far too busy staring at his shoes and wishing he could undo the last hour of his life and go back to how things had been in that moment, he and Gavin, together. Happy (enough) to be _together_. “This is what you want. I’ll do it, I’ll go.” Gavin was saying, and Michael found himself nodding. He didn’t want Gavin to leave. He didn’t want Gavin to stay.

“Gav, wait-” he called at the last minute, once Gavin was already out of the door. “Is this a breakup?”

Gavin smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. For a second, Michael thought he could see the glint of tears in his eyes too but that couldn’t be right. Gavin never cried.

“This is whatever you want it to be, Michael. I’ll see you around.”

Michael sat on the carpeted floor and stared at the shattered mess of a mug in the middle of the carpet. He remained there for hours, staring, daydreaming, wracking his brains for anything that could’ve gone differently that would’ve changed the outcome of their shitty, shitty situation, but he couldn’t come up with a thing. He and Gavin had been at ends with each other for _weeks._ Tiny squabblings and below-the-belt snaps in and out of videos and at home had just been the beginning. Michael could feel it, building up in his gut as the days went by. He was starting to _hate_ Gavin. His own boyfriend- they’d been together barely a year and Michael was already starting to hate him.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Michael scrambled to get it. Half of him hoped it was Gavin, saying he was sorry and that everything could go back to the way it was, just like that. They’d clean up the stupid mug and toss it in the trash. They’d kiss and make up and everything would be perfect, just in time for work tomorrow.

The other half of him wasn’t so sure. It would be nice to rewind time to an hour before the argument started, but then, would that really fix things? clearly, there was a problem that needed solving. Sweeping it up and tossing it into the trash with the remains of Gavin’s grandmother’s favourite tea-cup wasn’t going to help that.

_From: Geoff Ramsey_

 

_Care to explain why Gavin’s just shown up at my door in tears?_

 

_Michael?_

 

_I know you’re reading these. Your read receipts are on, asshole._

 

_I just want to talk. Promise._

 

_Fuck you._

 

Michael tossed the phone across the room. Geoff’s dad-act certainly wasn’t helping things. if anything, he felt worse, knowing he’d have to walk into work tomorrow and face not just Gavin- stone faced and silent, but also Geoff Ramsey, glaring and all-powerful. They certainly weren’t going to get much recorded.

Sliding into bed without Gavin already there, or Gavin one step behind him, or the sound of Gavin humming in the shower or just the thought of him out in the living room, feet up on the sofa watching _Westworld_ well into the early hours was a strange pill to swallow. At first, Michael felt peace, knowing he could be alone with his thoughts and not have to worry about another argument stirring. Distance had been growing between them for so many weeks, that going to bed was a chore. Gavin would lie stiffly beside him and say nothing, or crash on the couch after watching Netflix until four AM. They’d carried on having sex, but it hadn’t been anything close to the tender touched they’d become accustom to together. Michael had been rough when grabbed Gavin to turn him onto his front, onto his back, push him onto all fours. Gavin had kissed him with a snarl on his lips and a frown on his brow, biting hard enough to draw blood. Jack had laughed at work and asked if he’d been punched in the face because his lip was split. Michael had to lie and say he dropped his phone on his face.

But despite all of that, the tears didn’t stop. Michael felt empty without Gavin there beside him. He _missed_ him.

Before it had the chance to go off, Michael had reached over to grab his phone and reply to Geoff’s messages. However, he was surprised when it vibrated in his hands, and Gavin’s face filled the screen. Michael answered the phone call straight away.

“Gavin, I-”

“I’m outside.” Gavin’s voice was shaking, as Michael bolted from bed and ran into he main room, over to where the front door was. He yanked it open just as Gavin said “-I’m sorry.” The two stood still, facing each other, phones pressed to their ears.

Gavin ended the call, tucking his phone back into his jeans. His eyes were red from where he’d been crying. His skin was dry and flaky, and his hands shook by his sides.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated. “Michael, I’m sorry, I-”

Michael reached forwards then, pulling Gavin into him and wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he possibly could. Gavin melted into the hug, a light sob muffled by Michael’s neck as he threw his arms around it, pulling tight like a boa constrictor around its prey. Michael didn’t care that he was almost naked with his front door wide open, Gavin cuddling him so tightly that their ribs were pushed together.

Because Gavin was _there_ , he’d come _back_ and maybe things could be okay after all.


	18. (Mavin + Raywood) Day Eighteen: College!AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with 2x as many ships!

Day Eighteen: College!AU – Mavin + Raywood

 

 

 

 

“All I’m saying is,” Michael huffed, sitting across from his best friend Ray at _Whataburger_ , poking at a few greasy fries. “-guy’s a fucking asshole and I’m sick of his shit.”

“More Gavin talk?” Ryan’s voice caught his attention as the older student slipped his tray onto their table, sliding in beside Ray in the tiny booth. Of course, Ray didn’t seem to mind, reaching up to tuck a strand of Ryan’s hair behind his ear before kissing him sweetly on the scruff of his beard. In turn, Ryan reached his arm around the back of the booth and cradled Ray into a comfortable embrace. Michael rolled his eyes. It was alright for some- he supposed.

“What else?” Ray scoffed. “Michael still hasn’t worked up the courage to ask him on a date yet.”

“ _Really_?” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I did mention the fact that Gavin is head over heels for you, right?” he turned back to Ray. “I feel like I’ve mentioned this before.”

Michael glared across the table as Ray nodded sweetly and the two proceeded to make doe-eyes at each other for a few seconds. He gritted his teeth. “You have.”

“So, what are you waiting for?” Ryan looked back over, tossing a few fries into his mouth as Ray leant forwards and stole a sip of his milkshake. “Hurry up and ask him out. Ray wants to double date.”

“I _don’t_ want to double date.”

“Whatever man.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Gavin’s an asshole and dating roommates only ever leads to complications. What if it all goes to shit and I’m stuck with him?”

“Ask for a transfer, genius!” Ray laughed. “But anyway, nothing will go wrong. You two are clearly _super_ into each other.”

Michael flopped back against the back of the booth. He supposed, on one hand, Ray and Ryan weren’t exactly _wrong_. He and Gavin _had_ been tiptoeing around each other for days and weeks and months since their second year of college started. Gavin had transferred over from an English University, and Michael didn’t have a roommate anymore since Ray had left him to move into Ryan’s place. They’d gotten on well instantly, Gavin apparently having no boundaries when it came to strangers and also being very keen to launch into an instantaneous friendship. Michael couldn’t count the amount of times he’d walked into the dorm room to see Gavin hardly dressed, laid out flat on either of their beds with a stupid smile on his face as he leafed through a _physics_ textbook during their first month of sharing.

Gavin wasn’t shy about anything- not his body, his embarrassing stories, his sexual orientation, his sex life. In that sense, he and Michael were complete opposites, because Michael had spent the first eighteen or so years of his life in New Jersey keeping every potentially shaming story a locked secret whilst simultaneously trying to convince himself and the rest of the world that he was straight despite frequent liaisons with other boys. Now he lived in _Austin,_ the poster-city for diversity, things had changed rapidly.

Not that he’d had the chance to actually date anyone- what with Gavin Free becoming his new obsession. Michael hated how quickly he’d fallen for the asshole. It didn’t make sense. Gavin wasn’t exactly his usual type.

“I mean first of all, he’s a fucking _slob_. Leaves his shit everywhere, never keeps anything tidy. Doesn’t even fucking make his bed! Just leaves me to do it like an asshole!” he’d complained loudly, time and time again to Ryan and Ray. Ryan and Gavin shared a few psychics classes together, and they had too become fast friends. From that, Ray had become Michael’s inside man, information of Gavin’s “crush” on him leaked through Ray.

“I could never date Gavin. He doesn’t give a fuck about other people!” he’d countered when Ray first suggested he try and ask Gavin on an actual date. “You’ve heard the things he says about the people he sleeps with! I’m not gonna be his fucking piece of ass on the side for when he gets bored.”

Over the subsequent months, as Gavin’s flirtatious behaviour became more and more obvious, Michael felt his willpower slipping. On far too many occasions, he’d find himself going along with Gavin’s antics and becoming ridiculously drunk. Gavin was a feely drunk, and often became completely insatiable without Michael’s touch on him at all times. Most mornings, they’d awaken hungover, both curled into the same single bed.

“I’m just not looking to date Gavin, or anyone.” Had been his final excuse, when Ray and Ryan lectured him in the stupid on-campus Whataburger with disappointed frowns on their faces. “I can’t, okay? I… I fucking like him a lot. Not just in that way- but as a friend too. I don’t want to risk fucking that up.”

“Michael,” Ray sighed, staring at him from across the table. “Look, no homo- but I love you man. I just wanna see you be happy and I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you hang out with Gavin.”

Michael had to think then. It was true- he did have the most fun out of the _college_ experience now that Gavin was a part of it. For some reason, he was just _in_ on everything. Gavin knew _everybody_ , regardless of their school year, social status, age, orientation, race. Gavin knew everybody and everybody knew him- so in the few short months since they’d med and become roomies, Michael had found himself dragged along as Gavin’s plus one to more parties than he’d attended in his whole first year.

And he _enjoyed_ them. He’d never been much of a party person, but something about going out with Gavin made things bearable. Gavin just had a way of making the most menial tasks fun, and after a few beers Michael found himself becoming almost as much the life of the party as his roommate was. Through Gavin, he’d met a whole crowd of awesome people, such as Geoff and Griffon, Chris  and Aaron and Barbara, Burnie Burns- all the “popular” faces around campus. And even better, they _liked him too_.

“Hi boi!” Michael was interrupted from his thoughts by Gavin, sliding into the booth beside him with nothing but a soda. “Ray, Ryan. Alright lads?”

Ryan and Ray smiled. “Hi Gavin.”

Michael turned and watched Gavin as he engaged in animated conversation with their two other friends. Fuck, he even looked good here- sat in a greasy Whataburger with that disgustingly lime green hoodie and mussed up hair, bags under his eyes from where he likely had only slept a few hours. Michael wondered then if maybe, he was in a little deeper than he’d originally thought.

“Go on a date with me.” he suddenly blurted out. Three pairs of eyes flew to him. Gavin, apparently, was flabbergasted. Ryan and Ray watched on silently with interested smirks.

“You what?”

“You, me… dinner? A movie or something?” Michael shrugged, hoping he looked as nonchalant as he was trying to sound. The word vomit hadn’t helped him convey his offer in any way that sounded appealing, so he just had to hope that the intention was clear enough. Gavin was staring at him, mouth open but not quite dumbfounded- so he assumed it wasn’t too out-of-line. After all, what was the worst that could happen? He’d say no?

“Like a real date?” Gavin questioned. Michael nodded. “Are you having me on?”

“I’m serious!” Michael laughed nervously. “Go on a date with me. I’ll pay and everything! Please?”

Sitting back, Gavin appeared to ponder over the question for a few seconds. Michael held his breath. Across the table, it seemed as if Ryan and Ray were doing the same.

“Okay.” Gavin shrugged. “Saturday?”

Michael grinned. “it’s a date.”


	19. (Turnwood) Day Nineteen: Celebrity/Personal Assistant!AU

Day Nineteen: Celebrity/Personal Assistant!AU (Turnwood)

 

 

“Mr Haywood! Mr Haywood! Look over here!”

Ryan turned, flashing the journalist an awkward smile as her following photographer blasted him with light. He didn’t have time to answer the questions she, nor the swarm of others, hollered at him, but did his best to at least acknowledge. Ryan just couldn’t help it. He was a nice guy and he hated making people’s lives difficult. The way he saw it, was that if for whatever reason her boss figured it was _that_ important for her to get a picture, or a quote or an interview in order to keep her job secure- why couldn’t he take two seconds out of his day to turn and smile?

This nice streak in his personality was always much to the dismay of his personal assistant, Meg. She wasn’t far behind him, frowning deeply and clutching her folder of notes to her chest as she kept her head low and stormed into the building, pushing Ryan ahead of herself.

“Not even one?” he asked, pleading. She glared at him.

“We don’t have time for questions Rye,” she reached forwards, pulling him inside of the car. “We have to be at the airport for our flight in less than an hour.”

As the door of the SUV was closed, the driver sped off. The background noise of journalists and photographers shouting and flashing became muted. The driver rolled up the partition, and Ryan was alone, completely with Meg.

She relaxed, leaning against the leather seat. Ryan relaxed beside her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. In turn, she scooted over so they were closer together and looked up at him with a smile.

“Sorry for making your job so difficult.” He said.

Meg laughed softly. “Sorry for rushing you everywhere. I know you like talking to people, and I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, smirking at her. “What’s the worst that could happen if you didn’t?”

“I’d get fired.” Meg rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” Ryan gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “I like you way too much.”

“What did I tell you about inappropriate behaviour in public?” she looked at him warningly over her glasses, but Ryan didn’t stop grinning. He leant forwards, resting their foreheads together.

“Nobody is here.” His hand fell from her shoulder, running down her arm and slipping to her waist. A smile tugged at the corner of Meg’s lips. “What about the driver?” she whispered. Ryan barely spared a glance in his direction.

“He won’t see.”

Then, Ryan leant forwards and pushed his lips against hers. Meg melted into his touch easily, reaching up to gently cup his face and splay a few fingers into his soft hair.  Kissing Ryan alone was so thrilling, and certainly worth losing her job over. They’d been sneaking around for months, but Meg was usually far more careful.

Ryan was tired of being careful.

He reached over, pulling her completely into his lap, as neither of them wore seatbelts. Meg thought against it for a few seconds, but Ryan’s hands were warm and heavy over her hips and up her bag and all rationale flew out the cracked window along with her hair tie as Ryan pulled her hair from it’s neat ponytail.

“Hm, how long is the drive to the airport?” he asked, whispered against her lips as fingers began playing in the buttons of his shirt. Meg grinned, tilting her head sideways so her red hair fell over her shoulder.

“Long enough.” She shrugged, before leaning forwards and kissing him again.


	20. (Raywood) Day Twenty: Motorcycle(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they were always destined to be intertwined

Day Twenty: Motorcycle(s) (Raywood)

 

 

“No matter what you do, don’t stop shooting!”

Ryan’s voice was muffled behind the mask, but being pressed up behind him with one arm wrapped tightly around his waist atop the sleek black motorcycle make it easy enough for Ray to hear him. His free arm was extended, gun aimed at the thickening heard of police cars behind them.

Blue and red lights lit up the walls around them as Ryan dipped into the tunnel. This gave them far more protection, weaving in and out of cars and giant trucks as the police tried desperately to keep up without mowing down a highway full of civilians. Still, it didn’t make them safe by a longshot, and Ray was beginning to feel the sting of where a bullet had grazed his shoulder.

“How much longer?” He asked through gritted teeth, sliding the empty clip out of the gun and letting go of Ryan for a brief few seconds, long enough to grab the secondary clip out of his boyfriend’s inside pocket. With great difficulty on the back of a speeding bike, Ray managed to slip it in just before they reached the exit of the tunnel.

“Do it now!” Ryan instructed. Ray dropped the gun altogether as Ryan used all his strength to make the bike swerve dramatically sideways, throwing them both as close to the floor as possible without grating their faces on the pavement. This impressive manoeuvre gave Ray just enough time to reach for the grenade in his pocket, pull out the pin with his teeth and launch it with a well-armed throw into the tunnel. It had been a genius idea really, one entirely of Ryan’s devising. With the majority of the surviving LSPD trapped in the tunnel, a flying grenade was the perfect weapon. It exploded within seconds, and the fifty or so cars inside caught light. The flames then made their engines blow, leaving the entire inside a desecrated and bloody mess.

After their movie-moment swerve, Ryan had pushed the bike over to a safe distance. Instead of immediately fleeing, like they probably should’ve (the LSPD wasn’t infinite but they _did_ have a bunch of pretty terrifying helicopters that would certainly be heading in their direction soon) he’d cut the engine altogether, leant the bike on its stand and walked around to the front, before stopping in front of Ray.

“What are you doing?” Ray laughed, hopping off the bike as the flames licked behind them. “Shouldn’t we be… I don’t know… escaping before the helicopters fucking destroy us?” he glanced up at the sky. Ryan just stood still. Then, slowly, he reached up and pulled his mask off. Ray frowned. Ryan _never_ took his mask off in public. The last thing he needed was the LSPD knowing he’d been their chief officer for ten years in an epic double-crossing stunt that had recently wrapped with an impressive faking of his own death. Bunches of expensive flowers were still strewn across the outside of the warehouse where the heroic Chief Haywood had lost his life at the hands of the mighty Fake AH Crew’s sniper.

“What are you doing?” Ray repeated. Still, Ryan was silent. He reached behind himself, and then withdrew something small and dark from his back pocket. Ray’s heartbeat increased rapidly.

“Rye- the choppers are gonna be here any minute.”

Ryan shook his head. “Jack’s taking care of it.” He nodded upwards, and true enough, Ray recognised their Fake AH Crew cargo bob hovering not too far above them. “This is our time. Brownman and The Vagabond.”

He didn’t give Ray much chance to say anything else in response before he was reaching forward, popping open the black velvet box to showcase a silver ring that sparkled in the light of the gasoline flames. Ray frowned.

“Dude- are you _proposing_?” he asked incredulously. Ryan grinned and nodded, before lowering himself slowly to one knee. Ray laughed. “Right here? In front of like, a hundred dead cops and a burning tunnel?”

“Couldn’t think of anywhere better.” Ryan shrugged, and that was enough. Ray didn’t need a grand speech about how much they loved each other or whatever. That had never really been his and Ryan’s style.

This was much more _them_. The stench of death and gasoline and burning flesh. Ray’s shoulder burning from the graze, tiny cuts across Ryan’s face from where shrapnel had ripped right through his mask. His hands were bloody too from where he’d slit the throat of a cop that got too close, and it stained the velvet box beautifully.

“So, what do you say?”

“Yes, obviously!” Ray threw his hands up. Ryan rose back to his feet with a small chuckle, before taking one of Ray’s beaten and bloody hands between his own and slipping the ring on his finger. It was a little stained and stung a little from where his knuckles were all cut up, but Ray didn’t mind. He’d suffered far worse.

“I love you.” He smiled. “Getting married sounds kinda lame, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it cool. You always do.”

“Love you too, kid.” Ryan reached forwards and rubbed his hair quickly. Before pulling him forwards and placing a soft kiss on the front of his forehead. “Now let’s get out of here. I think Jack’s engine just got shot out.”

“Shit!” Ray looked up, just in time to see Jack’s red hair go flying through the air and a rainbow coloured parachute above it. He parasailed away with expertise as Ryan and Ray hopped back on the bike, weaving between the well aimed bullets from the chopper on their tail. However, Jack had done his job well (because, well, when _didn’t_ he?) and soon the police copter was falling too with the cargo-bob. The two landed together on the concrete with a deafening boom, before ticking and then eventually, exploding. The rays of heat warmed Ray’s back slightly as they sped away, but he didn’t mind. He just leant further forwards and wrapped his arms tighter around Ryan’s waist. The ring caught in a snag on Ryan’s jacket, and he didn’t bother pulling it away.

They were always destined to be intertwined.


	21. (Raywood) Day Twenty-One: Bartender!AU

Day Twenty-One: Bartender!AU – RAYWOOD

 

 

 

“Whaddup, Ray?”

Ray leant across the bar when he spotted his best friend, Michael, roll in with his boyfriend not far behind him. Then, following Gavin, who flopped down on the nearest bar-stool with a spaced out, stupid-high looking grin, was another man Ray hadn’t met before.

“Oh, this is Ryan. We work with him.” Michael pointed behind as he and Ray slapped hands over the bar, before Ray ducked down to pull out three beer glasses. “Ryan, this is our buddy Ray. His dad owns this place.”

“Cool to meet you.” Ray smiled, and Ryan returned the gesture, even if it was somewhat awkwardly. Ray kind of liked how he just looked slightly out of place in the bar. It made him stand out, in a way that was not-good but not exactly bad either. “Beer, I’m guessing?”

Ryan shook his head. “Uh, no thanks. I don’t really drink. Diet Coke’ll be fine if you’ve got it.”

“Woah.” Ray raised his eyebrows, pulling two beer bottled up from under the counter followed by a glass, which was then filled with Diet Coke. He hummed, impressed. “Cool. Me either!”

“Really?” Ryan gave out a small laugh. “But, you’re a bartender?”

Ray shrugged. “I just help my dad out, no biggie. I guess I just never really liked the taste of alcohol. What about you? Got any sad stories or defeated demons?”

Ryan shook his head again, handing over a crisp twenty with a wry smile. “No demons, just, same as you. Never really liked it. And hey, keep the change.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Ray tucked the change he had just pulled out of the cash register into his pocket. Ryan tipped his drink at him.

“Consider it compensation for having to deal with these two all night.” He nodded over to Gavin and Michael, who were leant against each other, laughing loudly. Gavin’s eyes were burning red, and he could barely hold his beer without liquid lapping out the side.

Ray scoffed. “Gavin looks ridiculously high. How much has he smoked?”

“Too much.” Followed Ryan’s answer. “He told me he couldn’t feel his fingertips.”

“I’m surprised Jack let him in.” Ray laughed, folding his arms. “Last time Gavin came here high, he puked all over the pool table.” Ryan laughed then too, and both tutted when they looked over at Gavin, who could barely keep himself upright as Michael whispered in his ear and ran his fingers up and down his narrow thigh.

“If you get sick of them, you can come hang out over here with me.” Ray offered, and the small blush that set across Ryan’s cheeks made his toes tingle. “I mean, if you want. We’re not super busy tonight. We can be sober buddies together.” He made sure to add the nonchalant shrug at the end, just so Ryan could know how certainly _not_ nonchalant he was.

“Sure.” Ryan smiled. “I might just take you up on that.”


	22. (Turnwood) Day Twenty-Two: Make-Out

Day Twenty-Two: Make Out – TURNWOOD

 

 

 

“Right here?” Ryan arched an eyebrow as Meg nodded frantically, pushing his hoodie off his shoulders and onto the floor. “In the _make-up_ closet?”

Meg’s lips were already dancing around his neck. “Damn right.” She nodded, before reaching up to wrap her arms around his shoulders and curve her body into his. Ryan was nothing if not reciprocal, and moved his hands down to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Still, he didn’t give into kissing her like she wanted, and instead leant his head back, out of her reach, and stared down at her.

“Rye,” she pouted. “C’mon. Make out with me!”

“Sorry,” Ryan laughed. “I just didn’t realise I was so irresistible.”

Meg glared at him. “We’re filming in ten. So you better start kissing me in the next five seconds otherwise there’s no way I’m letting you win Internet Show ‘N Tell. I’ve got my golden snitch just waiting in my e-mail drafts to Mariel. And I’m _not_ afraid to use it.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Ryan shrugged, before surprising her by lifting her up from her hips and sitting her down on top of the counter. This way, they were a little closer to eye level with each other and neither had to stretch their necks when Ryan leant in and slotted his lips against hers.

Kissing Meg was like an art, Ryan thought. Her mouth was relatively small, but that only worked to its advantage. She was able to nibble at all the nooks and crannies of his own lips, swipe her lounge against his without bumping teeth even once. Meg was a talented kisser- Ryan had got to know that pretty quickly in the recent months as they started hooking up. It didn’t matter that they were still fully clothed, and there likely wouldn’t be any chance of them going further in the dingy make-up closet, ten minutes before filming, but it didn’t matter. Most of the time, just kissing Meg was enough.

“Hey Meg are you in here- oh my _god_!”

Both Ryan and Meg turned, eyes wide like rabbits caught in bright headlights. They were then faced with a very flustered, very shocked looking Tyler, dressed in a brown, tangled wig and Meg’s _Elizabeth_ corset.

“Uh… it’s not what it looks like?” Ryan tried. Meg covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Tyler remained frozen.

“Yeah… uh… I’m just gonna… I’m just gonna go.” He backed out of the room slowly. Meg gave him a little wave, and Ryan reached forward to close the closet door.

“Oh, and just so you know!” Tyler yelled through the wood once the door was closed. “We all totally knew you guys were hooking up. Just saying.”


	23. (Mavin) Day Twenty-Three: Doing Something Illegal

Day Twenty-Three: Doing Something Illegal – MAVIN

 

 

 

“This is _not_ a good idea.”

Gavin rolled his eyes as Michael stood with his arms crossed by the door, watching as Gavin rolled a joint neatly between his nibble fingers. “Come on. Don’t act like you’ve never done it.”

“I’m not saying that,” he walked over and sat on the sofa beside Gavin, snatching the joint that was offered to him and sniffing it lightly. “Just, uh this is some strong shit and-” Michael recoiled for a second, as the strong scent of marijuana made his nostrils flare. He frowned. “Jesus! where’d you even get this shit?”

Gavin shrugged vaguely. “I know a guy.”

“Whatever.” Michael glared at him. “And b- I don’t think you can handle it.”

“I already took half a pill before Geoff dropped me here.” Gavin smirked, leaning back into the sofa and lighting his own joint between his lips. “Give it… hm, I dunno, an hour? I’ll be bloody _pinging_.”

“Pinging?” Michael raised a questioning eyebrow, snatching the lighter off Gavin once he was finished with it. “What’s that, like, British for high?”

“Sort of.” Gavin shrugged. “Different types of high, init. MD- or sorry- _ecstasy_ , it makes you ping, you know cos like your eyes and shit. And you just… feel _pinging._ I don’t know. It’s just a word people say.”

“Lemme see your eyes.” Michael leant forwards, and true to his word, he could see Gavin’s pupils beginning to expand far past the realms of possibility. He giggled. “Colour me impressed. How long until you fucking _ping,_ then?”

“Soon.” Gavin wriggled closer to him, swivelling so he was laid flat on his back with his head in Michael’s lap. He took a long drag of his joint. “I can feel it.” He held a hand above his face and waved it slowly. “This stuff’s only making it stronger.” He wheezed before coughing, smoke curling above their heads. Michael just watched him amusedly. He hadn’t taken much, but he could feel whatever this weed was laced with creeping up in the back of his brain. Suddenly, Gavin’s hair felt like a cloud beneath his fingers, and he was running through it like a puppy. Gavin didn’t seem to mind, dipping his head back further so Michael could have better access, giving out little purrs and huffs of satisfaction every now and then.

“Mmm, Michael?” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I like you.”

Michael nodded. “Okay.”

“No.” Gavin frowned, wriggling slightly so he could turn and face Michael. “I like you, Michael. More than weed.”

“That’s a lot.” Michael laughed, taking a drag. “But like I said. Okay.”

Gavin pouted. “Don’t you like me back?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I let you in, didn’t I? Surely that says enough.”

Slowly, and a little wobbly, Gavin sat up. Then, he shifted back so he was more or less in Michael’s lap, legs swung over. Michael rested his hand on Gavin’s knee and Gavin grinned.

“Kiss me then.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, but didn’t have the energy to look shocked. He’d already mellowed out too much for anything Gavin said to even touch the sides.

“Kiss you?” he asked. Gavin nodded, and within seconds, Michael saw his pupils blow so that barely a ring of green surrounded them. _Fuck it_ , he thought to himself. _What’s the worst that could happen?_

Slowly, Michael leant forwards and pressed his lips against Gavin’s. Gavin kissed back languidly, hands snaking around Michael’s back and exploring his hair. Michael leaned over to rest his joint in the ashtray on the table and then used his free hands to settle on Gavin’s waist, laying him back into the sofa. As he settled between Gavin’s legs, he heard a giggle underneath him.

“What?”

“ _Michael_.” Gavin laughed again, louder. “I’m _pinging_.”

Michael grinned. “Moron.” He sat back up, detaching himself from Gavin almost completely. He let the idiot’s leg’s stay in his lap. Gavin didn’t make effort to sit up- not that he would’ve been very successful.

“Fucking _hell_.” He breathed. “I think kissing you made it ten times better.”

Michael leant forwards and picked up both his joint and Gavin’s lighter. “You’re welcome.” He sparked it, inhaled, exhaled. “I’m available if you ever wanna try it again.”

When he looked over at Gavin, a wide, unreadable grin was spread across his face. His eyes were wide, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	24. (Mavin) Day Twenty-Four: Car Accident

Day Twenty-Four: Car Accident - MAVIN

 

 

“You’re so fucking irritating Gavin, I swear to God.” Michael was laughing, fingers loose around the wheel of his beat up old estate, the only thing he’d bothered not to replace when he made the move from New Jersey to Austin. It had been a bitch to ship, but at the time (with his parents help) it was much easier and more affordable than buying a whole new car.

The engine was shit, the tail lights flickered and the right wing-mirror was almost completely held on with duct tape, but the car did the job he needed it too. Up until the point where he and Gavin started dating, a year or so after he started working for Rooster Teeth, he’d barely used the thing. Work was five minutes away from where he lived, and Lindsay was pretty reliable for rides everywhere else. Michael just figured he’d wait until he got a real girlfriend to drive him everywhere else too, and then sell the old piece of junk.

Instead, he got _Gavin_.

Stupidly clever, impossibly irritating and beautifully idiotic Gavin, who couldn’t drive for shit, didn’t have a valid licence in America _or_ the UK and whinged about public transport whenever possible. So, Michael refreshed his memory with a quick introduction to driving course online and climbed back behind the wheel so the two of them could get themselves around. It wouldn’t be so bad, if Gavin wasn’t the most infuriating passenger ever.

“Could’ve pulled out right there.”

“Shut the _fuck_ up.”

They were stood waiting to pull onto the _roundabout_ , as Gavin called it, watching the traffic pass in front of him. It was one of the most infuriating parts of driving, for Michael, in Austin because for some reason everyone in the damn state was completely insane, and didn’t know shit about who had the right of way.

“Or there.”

“Gavin, I swear to God.” Michael glared over to him, but there was fondness underlying in his tone. “You can fucking tell me how to drive when you’ve got a licence. Then, by all means, tell me how to fucking drive whenever you want.”

“Pull out!”

Michael snickered. “When have I ever done that?”

The blush that spread across Gavin’s face was incredible and Michael tilted his head against the headrest of the drivers seat, laughing loudly. He _loved_ how embarrassed he could make Gavin get, despite the fact that it was only usually the two of them around when he made such comments. Anything to do with sex could set Gavin off, pink staining his cheeks and his bottom lip held firmly between his teeth.

“ _Michael_!” he spluttered. “You’re- you’re so _vulgar_. What’s that even supposed to _mean_?”

“Whatever, dickhead.” Michael rolled his eyes, inching the car out slightly further forwards so they could join the roundabout and finally get home. “Maybe when we get home I’ll give you a demonstration.”

“Michael!”

Michael turned his head then, expecting to see more of the same. Gavin, cheeks tinged with embarrassment, lip bitten. Maybe, he’d lifted his hand up to cover his mouth, as he did when Michael was particularly crude. Or maybe, he was more on board with the idea than Michael had initially expected, and he was squirming in his seat, adjusting his jeans and excited to get home.

When Michael turned and looked at Gavin, he was sat bolt upright, eyes wide with fear. Michael opened his mouth to ask what about, but it was too late.

The truck crashed into the drivers side of the vehicle, and Michael felt the seatbelt tighten against his chest. He wasn’t much aware of it as he slipped into unconsciousness, but the car had actually turned completely over, rolling across the intersection a few times before coming to a stop back on  his feet. Michael was completely unconscious from the force of his head, bashing against the headrest. He didn’t even see Gavin, who wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, go flying through the shattered windshield.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Michael… Michael! Michael, are you there? Are you with us?”

Michael groaned. His entire body _ached_ , with a fierce, underlying burn. “Gavin?” he mumbled, blinking his eyes until his vision came back into vague focus. He didn’t have his glasses on, but the person hovering in front of his face was clear enough.

“Lindsay?” he questioned. Her eyes were red, cheeks blotchy, as if she’d been crying. Michael blinked a few more times, and the white light around her fading. Oh, he was in the hospital. That was right. He’d been in a car accident. The truck had crashed into his side. He was _alive?_ Gavin was-

Michael shot up, despite the aching in his lower back, and made a mental note that he could still feel all his limbs. “Gavin! Where’s Gavin?”

“Woah, Michael, relax!” Lindsay put a hand on his chest, attempting to force him back down, but Michael refused to resist. “Michael, please, calm down!”

“Where is he? Is he okay?!”

“He’s…” Lindsay trailed off, and Michael felt his heart physically stop. “Michael, he’s not good. He’s in surgery now- he… they don’t know what’s going to happen. Some of his ribs punctured his lung and… they’re trying, okay? They said they didn’t know what would happen but the main thing is to stay calm-”

“Stay calm!” Michael yelled, fresh tears filling his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. “Gavin- I need to see him, let me get up!”

“Michael, lay down!” Lindsay tried to settle him as the machines wired into him began to beep. Lindsay glanced over at the monitor. “Michael, your heart is spiking. The nurses’ coming over, they’ll put you to sleep, okay? You’re hurt! You’ve broken your arm, and two ribs. You’re concussed. You just need to calm down.”

“I need to see Gavin!” Michael sobbed, as two nurses burst into the room, running over to his bed and injecting something into the drip in his arm. Suddenly, Michael felt warm, and the image of Lindsay in front of him began to blur and fade. “I… Gavin…” he mumbled, but the words were becoming harder and harder to form. “I need… to see… Gav…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“He pulled through.”_

_“Oh thank God, I… I can’t believe it.”_

_“Neither could the doctors but… Gav’s a fighter, apparently. They managed to stabilise him, he’s sleeping off the surgery now.”_

_“Michael will be so relieved. God, Geoff, as soon as he woke up he was screaming Gavin’s name. I tried to calm him down but as soon as he knew… he freaked the fuck out. Nurses put him back to sleep.”_

_“Hey, you did good. You were there for him, and he’ll appreciate that. When he wakes up, they said he can come off the drip and see Gavin. His injuries weren’t nearly as severe and the concussion should be gone by now. You did good Lindsay. C’mere.”_

Michael blinked his eyes open, just in time to see a very worn-out looking Geoff, pull Lindsay into a tight hug, which was returned.

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, shifting slightly in the bed as they both looked over at him. Now he was awake, the burning pain was starting to come back. It wasn’t as severe as before, whatever drugs they’d pumped into him certainly doing their job, but it still hurt to move. “Geoff… Lindsay? Gav… he’s… okay?”

Both looked over to him, surprised and relieved to see him awake. They walked over to his side and Lindsay reached forwards, stroking one of his tattoos fondly.

“He’s okay.” She nodded, tearfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And you are too. You’re both gonna be okay.”

“Fuck driving.” Michael groaned, and Geoff let out a short laugh. When Michael looked over at him, it was as if his friend had aged ten years in a single afternoon. Michael supposed that, to Geoff, it probably felt like he had. “Uber everywhere from now on. Or Lyft or whatever the fuck that new ones called. Just… no driving.”

“Not for a while buddy.” Geoff patted his shoulder. “Not ‘till your arm heals at least.”

Michael looked down at the thick plaster cash around his right forearm, and weakly, tried to lift it up. “Fuck.” He said, finally taking a moment to look down at his body. Two arms, two legs. That was all that mattered, he guessed. “I _hurt_.”

“The nurse’ll be in soon to dose you back up, but not put you to sleep. We all know you’re gonna wanna see Gav as soon as possible.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a painful, dragging hour that followed as Michael hounded the nurses for information on Gavin’s condition whilst Lindsay and Geoff explained to him the ins and outs of the accident. To be truthful, Michael didn’t give a fuck about the driver and his stroke behind the wheel and the fact that he’d nearly lost an arm and would probably be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He didn’t give a fuck that four other cars had been involved in the accident, with minor injuries sustained to each of the drivers. He didn’t even care that the whole thing was being broadcast on the news, his and Gavin’s smiling faces (a screenshot taken from an old _AHWU_ video) headlining it. He didn’t even care that thousands of fans had poured into the RT site to send their well wishes as soon as the news had broke.

All he cared about was seeing Gavin, and making sure he was still breathing.

“Michael?”

He turned to see the nurse, a nice enough woman with blonde hair and soft creases in her eyes. She looked tired. Lindsay had told him earlier that she’d been the one watching over Gavin this whole time, and he made a mental note to send her some flowers or something, as soon as he knew her name.

“Can I see him?” he asked, for maybe the hundredth time. However, this time, finally, she nodded and a male nurse came in with a fold-out wheelchair.

“He’s awake.” She told him, wheeling him down the corridor (despite Michael’s protests that he _could_ walk) towards Gavin’s room, which was over in the intensive care side of the hospital. “Groggy from all the drugs, but awake. He’s been asking for you. _Mi-cool_ , he says.” She laughed softly, and a smile blossomed across Michael’s face.

“Yeah, he always does that. In that dumb fucking accent. We always tease him.”

“Here we are.” She stopped outside the room, before pushing the door open slowly. Michael waved her hands away when she moved to push his wheelchair, instead spinning the wheel with his one good hand and moving forwards towards Gavin’s bed. She nodded, knowingly and remained outside so the two could have their privacy.

Michael held in the gasp that threatened to escape his lips when he saw Gavin, laid flat on his back in the small hospital bed. Countless wires surrounded him, he had bandages around his head and small, white strips where stitches had been administered onto his bruised face and torso. One eye was swollen, like it had been punched. The other was angry and red underneath from a graze. He squinted as they opened, but that same stupid _Gavin_ smile still over-took his face.

Michael felt tears prick the corner of his eyes. “Hey Gav,” he reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hand in his and squeezing it lightly. His voice was strained, and the light choke made Gavin hum a laugh. “How you feeling?”

“Mmm, Michael…” Gavin mumbled, head lolling to the side slightly as he turned to look over. He was still smiling. “Oh, boi, you’re alright!” his voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, but it was enough to make Michael’s insides light up.

“I’m fine, compared to you.” Michael pulled Gavin’s hand to his face, resting against it. It was shocking, how comfortable a simple strip of bare skin could be when pressed against his own. For a second, he had wondered if he’d ever feel Gavin’s touch again.

But there he was. Beaten, broken, bruised and bandaged. But he was _breathing_. Gavin was _alive_.

“I’m sorry.” Michael muttered after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“Wasn’t your fault.” Gavin’s fingers curled, stroking against the side of Michael’s face. “Nurse Evans told me about the driver and the stroke and everything. It wasn’t your fault, not even nearly. Could’ve been anyone and it could’ve been much worse. She said that you had a split-second reaction where you slammed on the accelerator and knocked us just out of the way of something much worse. So actually, I should be thanking you.”

Michael stilled. He remembered, slamming onto the gas as soon as he saw the truck. It hadn’t been a conscious thought, it had just been something his body had told him to do as soon as he saw the danger. “Holy shit.” He mumbled. He’d _saved_ their lives.

“Yep.” Gavin wheezed a cough, and then smiled again. “You pulled out.”

Michael laughed. It felt good to laugh again.

“Yeah.” He hummed, squeezing Gavin’s hand again, gently. “I did.”

 

 


	25. (Turnwood (ft Slight Mavin)) Day Twenty-Five: Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely little festive chapter. Hope u all had a wonderful holiday period!

Day Twenty-Five: Mistletoe – TURNWOOD

 

 

 

 

The premise of the RT Life was simple. It had obviously been cooked up from Mariel and Tyler’s filthy, wayward minds, but Meg had managed to modify it into something that would be appropriate for all the varied ages of their viewers. It was a simple mistletoe-themed stunt, where they’d run all through the office with a tiny sprig of green and see how many kisses they could get in an afternoon.

“So, who do you thinks gonna get the most?” Gavin had (surprisingly) offered to help them in the filming department, and was holding his IPhone in two hands, far too close to Barbara’s face. She laughed as the camera bumped her nose, and then, pushing him away, pointed in Mariel’s direction.

“Mariel, for sure.” She giggled. “I mean, c’mon. Look at all that.”

Mariel grinned from behind her giant yellow sunglasses and gave a twirl in the giant, over-sized, santa-suit. “Oh please, you flatter me.” she smirked, throwing an arm over an equally ridiculously (and festive) dressed Tyler. “Tye’s not getting shit from anyone, cos, you know, that would be cheating.”

“Oh, of course, baby. That means you can’t kiss anyone either though.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, and pressed their faces together. Gavin moved the camera to then point at Meg, tracking her slowly from her shoes to her face.

“Well then.” He said. “Guess that just leaves you Meg.”

She frowned. “Now, why am I starting to think this is all an elaborate set-up?”

Gavin did his best to keep a straight face, and the video continued as planned. Mariel and Tyler came to an agreement, sandwiching unsuspecting members of staff between their lips as Meg chased behind with mistletoe. She had her fair share of exchanges too, friendly kisses pressed to the top of her head by Burnie or eskimo kisses shared between herself and Ashley (who may or may not have still been drunk from their filming of Always Open) but that was just the prelude. Unknown to her, it was all leading somewhere in particular.

“Why are we moving to where the podcast sets are?” she asked as Mariel and Tyler ran on ahead into the warehouse. She turned to Gavin. “Aren’t they filming in here?”

“Yup.” He grinned. “Off Topic is on. Just… you know, Michael, Geoff, Jack. Think… uh… Ryan might be there too.”

Pink spread across Meg’s cheeks instantly, and she slowed her pace.

“Well.” She mumbled. “Not exactly many options there. I don’t wanna get punched by Griffon.” The attempt to joke was a feeble one, and Gavin had known Meg long enough to see easily through her thinly-veiled front. The romantic tension between Meg and Ryan had skyrocketed recently since they’d had a near-miss-kiss at the Roster Teeth holiday party. Meg had made the mistake of getting drunk. Ryan had made the mistake of letting her talk him into drinking.

By the time she was stumbling out into a cab he’d called for her, the pair had become inseparable. Ryan’s arm was wrapped tightly around her waist as he led her to the curb where the cab was waiting and her hands were clutching his shirt tightly, holding herself upright.

Ryan had reached forwards and opened the cab door. Meg had stood up straight and looked right at him. She’d leaned up, he’d leaned forwards.

Then, for reasons unbeknownst to Gavin, Michael and Geoff, who were all watching on not far behind them with excitement anticipation, Ryan chose to lean away from the potential kiss and instead let Meg fall forwards into the centre of his chest. He’d hugged her tightly, muttered something into her ear before ushering her forwards into the car. He’d waved gently as the car drove away. Michael and Geoff had groaned loudly behind them.

Gavin had then hatched the plan.

“Oh, who’s that storming onto the podcast set?!” Michael announced their presence with a knowing smirk as the Free Play team, minus Ryan, plus Gavin, made their way onto the set, Meg trailing behind. Her and Ryan both shared a blush, followed by a sickeningly sweet and mushy smile when they caught eyes with each other across the table.

“Hi Meg!” he gave a small wave. Geoff scoffed, and Ryan’s blush deepened. “…and Tyler and Mariel and Gavin. Wha-what are you doing here?”

“RT Life.” Meg pointed her thumb back at Gavin, who was still filming. Then, with one hand, she lifted up the mistletoe she’d been holding. “Christmas edition.” She explained.

“Well.” Geoff grinned. “Who’s going to pucker up?”

“I’m married.” Jack sipped his beer. “Sorry Meg.”

“Count me out too.” Michael couldn’t hide his pleased grin, catching eyes with Gavin. “Sadly, my heart belongs to another. Plus, you know, girls are gross.”

“Hey! Girls are the best!” Mariel crossed her arms. Tyler grunted in approval.

“Here, here.”

“Looks like I’m taken too, I’m afraid.” Geoff held his hands up, spinning his ring around a tattooed finger. “No matter how absent my fucking wife is. Did I mention she’s now going to San Diego? For a _week!_ San _Diego!_ I’m going to miss her so fucking much. I’m going to die.”

“Geoff, Off Topic!” Michael laughed. “We get it, your life is pathetic and meaningless without Griffon. The point here is that we’re all taken.” He gestured around the table at himself, Geoff and Jack. His finger stopped on Ryan. “Except, well… you know, Ryan.” He shrugged, sipping his beer in a half-hearted attempt to look nonchalant, before shooting Gavin a wink. Gavin giggled.

“Yeah.” He then cleared his throat as daggers were shot in his direction from Meg. “Rye’s single. He’ll give you a… lovely little Christmas kiss. Won’t you, Rye-bread?”

“Of course he will.” Jack patted Ryan on the shoulder, as Geoff reached for Meg’s hand, pulling her towards him. Then, he took the mistletoe from between her fingers, and held it above their heads. “Pucker up.” He teased, batting his eyelashes.

Meg let out a light laugh. Ryan remained sat on the stool. With him sitting and her standing, they were almost the same height. Meg was still a lot shorter, but their faces were much closer together. The pair shared a look. The plant dangled above their heads.

“C’mon Ryan!” Michael interrupted with a shout. “It’s content!”

Ryan took a deep breath. “Fuck it.” He mumbled, and then, he leant forwards, cupping Meg’s face in one hand and kissed her until they were both completely breathless.


	26. (Mavin) Day Twenty-Six: Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's got a secret. The gang manage to worm it out of him, and are very surprised by what they find.

Day Twenty-Six: Dance – Mavin

 

 

“Fucking look at him!” Michael laughed loudly, gesturing to Gavin across the table on the Off Topic Set. He was sat directly opposite Michael, mouth hung open in outraged shock as Geoff, Ryan and ultra-special guest Burnie (he’d wandered onto the set to grab a beer before being inevitably pulled into conversation) giggled between them. Michael rolled his eyes at Gavin’s expression. “Does he _look_ like he can dance?”

“Well-” Geoff started, but he was cut off immediately by a fierce glare from Gavin. Michael’s brow creased.

“What?” he pushed, smirking as Gavin did his best to stay silent. They hadn’t been dating for long, they were _just friend’s_ as far as the audience was aware, but Michael had learned to read Gavin pretty well in a short amount of time. It was all in the squirm, the limited eye contact, the lip-bitten uncomfortable grin. “What are you hiding?” Michael leant forwards, forcing Gavin to look at him.

“Yeah Gav,” Geoff sipped his drink, smiling over at Gavin, teasingly. “What-cha hiding?”

“Geoff!” Gavin exclaimed in response. “You said you wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“I haven’t said shit! This is all you buddy!”

“I’ve gotta agree with Geoff here.” Burnie laughed, as Gavin fumed comically beside him. “Seems like you’re doing this all on your own, Gav. May as well fess up.”

“This is the internet.” Ryan added. “Whatever it is you’re hiding, I’m sure they could find it within _minutes_.”

“Bugger me!” Gavin huffed, knocking his head against the table briefly. When he looked up, his cheeks were cherry red. “You can’t laugh!” He pointed accusingly as the three in the middle, and then, over to Michael. “Geoff laughed when I told him. So you can’t laugh.”

“Oh my god.” Michael giggled. “Dude, he really doesn’t wanna say it. What is it Gav? You can tell Mikey-Wikey.” He teased.

“We wont laugh!” Ryan promised, but his lips were already split into a grin. “Promise.”

“Shit.” Gavin muttered under his breath. He kept his eyes fixed on the table, and grasped his hands together tightly in his lap. “Alright… so… maybe, when I was younger. Like… I don’t know, from a little kid up until I was about… twenty? I don’t know, whenever I moved here. I was… sort of… uh…”

“A stripper?”

Gavin’s face went even darker. “What!” He yelled, looking over at the culprit of the sordid suggestion, Burnie. “No! I wasn’t a stripper… I was, I, uh, I was a _dancer_. I did like… _tap_ and jazz and stuff.” His face was burning by the time the admission slipped out, and he looked around nervously to Ryan, Burnie and then Michael, who were all frozen in complete shock.

“God, your parents must’ve known you were such a homo. Fucking _tap_.” Geoff broke the silence, laughing into his whiskey. That set the other two off quickly, Ryan and Burnie both dissolving into laughter as Gavin’s face fumed and he buried his face in his hands, embarrassed. The only person who hadn’t said anything, he quickly realised, was Michael. Gavin looked up, and Michael was still staring at him across the table with the faintest smile on his face.

“Well then?” He asked. “Have anything to say boi?”

Michael smirked. “I can’t fucking wait to meet your mom now. I fucking _hope_ she’s got videos. I really really do.”

“Michael no!” Gavin gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

“I fucking would.” Michael giggled. “Oh God. Extra Life… I’ll set a stretch goal. Someone call Jack!”

“Michael!”

 _“Mi-Cool!”_ the other three imitated, and Gavin huffed, folding his arms. He was still smiling though, embarrassed but clearly not too mortified, and that was all that mattered to Michael. The news was incredibly surprising, as Gavin was gangly and uncoordinated at best, but Michael supposed he did have some natural rhythm to his movements. The whole thing made enough sense logistically, but still, Michael couldn’t picture it.

Unless…

“Hey…” He then said, a thought forming in the back of his mind. “Can you like… still do it?”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “Uh… I don’t know.” He mumbled. “Probably. I don’t… I don’t have shoes or anything though. And I wasn’t… I probably wouldn’t be any good.”

“Bull- _Shit!”_ Geoff yelled. “For starters, he was fucking _good_. He’s got a whole trophy cabinet of trophies and medals back at his house in England! _And_ , asshole, you’ve got a fucking pair of tap-shoes that your coach gave you as a going-away present, still fresh in the box. Italian leather. So _don’t_ bullshit about: _ooh- I don’t know lads! I’m no good! I’ve got no shoes!_ Fucking little liar.”

“Geoff!” Gavin whined as the others laughed. “You’re giving away all my secrets!”

“I’ll fucking drive home and dig through your shit to get them. Sponsors better stick around for this weeks Last Call, I swear to God!”

“Alright, well, Geoff isn’t driving anywhere.” Burnie laughed, patting his friend on the back and pushing his whiskey away from him. “But I will personally send someone to collect them. Or, hey, call Griffon? Is she at home?”

Geoff smiled. “Excellent idea.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket as Gavin pouted, arms folded over his chest. “Geoff, you’re the worst! You’re _rubbish.”_

“Griffon’s bringing them over.” He ignored Gavin, smiling broadly as he laid his phone back down onto the table. “She’s literally looking for them now. Didn’t waste a fucking second. She’s been hounding that asshole to show us his twinkle toes since we found out his dirty little secret.”

“Alright then.” Michael shook his head amusedly as Gavin pouted and huffed and complained as Geoff and the others continued to tease him. He wasn’t laying it on nearly as thick, but he suspected Gavin knew that as soon as they got back to his apartment after work, the teasing really would begin. “Stay tuned in for Last Call, right after this podcast.” He looked into the camera. “Cause, uh, Gavin’s gonna fucking tap-dance. And apparently, it’s going to be _really good_.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I can’t believe it.” Michael laughed, quietly, as Gavin blushed on the other end of the sofa. On the screen in front of them, they were watching over the footage from _Last Call_ , that had been uploaded to the Rooster Teeth website hours sooner than it usually would, on Burnie’s personal request.

 _Everyone’s gotta fucking see this_ , he had said. _Take it off sponsor only. Put it on YouTube. Everyone **has** to fucking see this._

“What?!” Gavin rolled his eyes. “I thought, if I’m going to embarrass myself on the internet and do it, I may as well do it properly.”

“I can’t fucking believe how good you were.” Michael shook his head. They’d watched the video over and over again since arriving at Michael’s apartment, but every time, it got more impressive. It was probably the most co-ordinated he’d ever seen Gavin be. “Honestly. You’re actually _really_ good and that’s what makes it even more hilarious.”

“Well, you’re welcome.” Gavin laughed. “I’ll probably _never_ live this down. And you were right; my mum’s got _loads_ of videos.”

“I can’t wait to go to England.” Michael smiled, throwing his arm around Gavin’s narrow shoulders and pulling him close. Gavin huffed, but laid his head into the crook of Michael neck and made himself comfortable. Michael kissed his ear gently. “Like, meeting your family and shit will be cool but… oh god, I can’t _wait_ to see those videos. I really can’t.”

“I’m rubbish now.” Gavin wrinkled his nose, looking at the video as it played over the screen. “I used to be _wicked_ , back in the day.”

“Dude if that’s _shit,_ ” Michael gestured to the screen with his beer. “I can’t _wait_ to see fifteen-year-old Gavin tap dancing to fucking _Valerie_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I've had Gavin-Can-Dance Headcannons since like 2014. This is finally my chance to express them.


	27. (Mavin) Day Twenty-Seven: Teachers!AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because, of course, Gavin is late on the first day.

Day Twenty-Seven: Teachers!AU – MAVIN

 

 

Gavin slowed to a gentle jog as he made it up to the front entrance of the school. Of course, he always had the worst luck, and being late on his first day was probably, in hindsight, completely inevitable. It also didn’t help that he didn’t drive at all, and even if he did, he’d only been in America for a few weeks and wouldn’t have even had the chance to apply for a licence.

It was all Geoff’s fault really. When he got his dream job of being an English teacher in an American school, moving in with a host-family where the father (Geoff) was already a teacher at the same school was almost too good to be true! Gavin had woken up on his first day at work ready to jump into the car with Geoff, have a little banter on their way and then go their separate ways at the door.

Geoff had chosen this day to be sick. Griffon was away on a carving course. Millie was taken to school by her babysitter.

Gavin was stuck.

He’d called a cab, which had been fifteen minutes late, and then sat in morning traffic leading up to the school for almost twenty five minutes. By the time he’d made it to the front gates, papers flying as his briefcase unclipped and flew open in his hands, classes had been going for twenty minutes. A few students looked over at him and snickered as they strolled in late whilst Gavin was picking his things up. Gavin resisted the urge to yell at them. It was his first day. He didn’t need to make any teenage enemies.

“Dude, what the fuck!”

Gavin’s head whipped around as another voice grew nearer. This wasn’t a student though, this was a _man_ , dressed in nylon shorts and a sporty-looking windbreaker, socks high on his ankles and sneakers on his feet. He tripped over Gavin’s briefcase and went sprawling onto the concrete.

“Oh my _God_!” Gavin scrambled to move the briefcase, but it was too late. The man was already on the ground, clutching his ankle with his eyes squeezed shut. Gavin shuffled over to look at him.

He was laid flat on the concrete, one knee up where he was holding his foot. His head was on the ground, and by the way his head was lolling slightly and his eyes looked bleary, Gavin feared that he may have had a slight concussion.

“Well hello,” the guy slurred. “Where’ve you been all my life?”

Gavin blushed. “Uhm, hi. I’m Gavin Free. New English teacher… I… are you okay, mate?”

The guy blinked his eyes a few times, and his vision cleared. He frowned.

“Oh, shit. Right. Geoff was talking about you. Hi…” he winced in pain again, as Gavin reached a hand forward and pulled him so he was sat upright. He didn’t look so concussed anymore, and Gavin hoped that the small bump to his head had only sent him loopy for a few short seconds. “I’m Michael, Jones. Physical Ed.” He shook Gavin’s hand, and only then did Gavin realise that he hadn’t yet let go from when he had helped ‘ _Michael’_ up.

“I’m so sorry about that.” He blushed again, pulling his hand away and moving over to slam his briefcases shut, papers a shuffled mess inside. “I was just in a rush, I was late, on my first day- and then my briefcase opened and I tripped. Bunch of kids laughed at me, I guess I shouldn’t have been crouched in the middle of the entrance but-”

“-Hey, it was my fault.” Michael cut him off, rubbing the back of his head gently. Gavin admired the way his curls bounced. “I should’ve been looking where I was going. No harm done.”

“But your ankle?”

“Broke it when I was a kid.” Michael waved him off, climbing somewhat steadily to his feet. “Hurts like a bitch if I knock it, but it’s fine. I’d know if it was sprained.” Once he was up, he tested his ankle, putting a little weight on it. Soon enough, he was bouncing foot to foot, perfectly fine. Then, he reached down, and helped pull Gavin to his feet. “Good as new.”

“You’re very resilient.”

Michael laughed at that, loud and abrasive. Gavin usually hated loud people, but something told him he could get used to the bite in Michael’s voice very quickly. It might have had something to do with the fact that Gavin found him incredibly attractive, but, well, that was a problem for later.

“Sure am.” Michael nodded proudly. “Now, c’mon, I’ll show you around inside. Principal Burns won’t be mad that you’re late. Just say it was all Geoff’s fault and he’ll believe it. They go way back.”

“Thanks Michael.” Gavin smiled, as the two walked together into the building. “Since I got here, nobody’s been very nice to me, apart from you. So thanks.”

“Hey,” Michael patted his shoulder gently. “Don’t sweat it. Need anything, I’m here. English department is just down the hall from the gym. Hopefully we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

They slowed down to a stop in front of the principal’s office. Gavin hadn’t looked away from Michael, and Michael hadn’t stopped smiling.

“Thanks Michael.” He said, again. “I hope I see a lot more of you too”


	28. (Raywood) Day Twenty-Eight: Trying to Kill Each Other (Figuratively or Literally, your choice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray's been running, faster than he'd ever run before.

Day Twenty-Eight: Trying To Kill Each Other (figuratively or literally, your choice) - Raywood

 

 

 

He wasn’t sure how it had come down to this, but Ray was really starting to regret whatever the fuck it was he’d done to piss Ryan off on a scale this extreme.

He’d thought things were going fairly well, months after the civil-enough separation he’d taken from the Fake AH Crew. They still texted, on occasion. If Ray spotted Ryan (or any of the others) stuck in a sticky situation when out on one of his jobs, he’d provide polite cover-fire where possible. Geoff didn’t resent him all too much for leaving after his initial outburst of rage, followed by a month long moody sulk. He spoke to Gavin and Michael and Jack regularly enough. Ryan was a much harder man to keep up with. How the fuck was Ray supposed to keep continuous conversation with a guy who changed his burner phone once a week? Paranoid fuck.

He thought over this as he dodged gunfire, sprinting down the length of the pier with his purple hood held tightly over his head, as if that could do anything versus a 38calibre bullet. Ray’s feet ached as he pushed his body to limits it hadn’t seen in all too long, and on adrenaline alone, he managed to leap impressively out of deaths clutches and ducked behind a nearby dumpster. This bought him a few crucial seconds to refill his pistol, arm darting out by the side of the dumpster as he aimed blindly at his unknown attacker as the pedestrians screamed around them.

After all, it was only two o’clock on a sunny afternoon. Families littered the pier, young kids tried to win at rigged games and couples strolled hand in hand on sickly-sweet dates. Ray had been there before, once, with Ryan. They’d walked the length of the pier without the intent to bomb it, kill anyone or even make a little fire! It was a _real_ date, something Ray didn’t think The Vagabond was capable of at the time.

But Ryan was full of surprises like that. He’d shown up in his idea of “civilian clothes”, which involved  the same faintly blood-stained, worn, denim jeans and old black boots, but with the addition of a soft brown t-shirt with a cat-motif plastered on the front, rather than his signature blue and black heavy leather jacket. He’d also ditched the skull mask, on Ray’s personal request. There was no way he’d be getting a goodnight kiss with that thing involved, and the last thing they wanted was to be arrested, or worse- recognised.

The date itself went well. Ryan had clearly done his research beforehand, and took all the traditional steps in American-style courting. He held Ray’s hand, politely opened doors for him, slipped him quarters in the arcade despite how easy it was to rig the system for unlimited tokens. Everything was _by-the-book_ , until they’d gotten to the stupid shoot-out stand. Ryan had wanted to win Ray an oversized, bright pink teddy bear, and when, on the fifth try of the obviously-rigged shoot-and-aim carnival game, Ryan had pulled out his actual pistol, and put a bullet between the smug owner’s skull.

Ray went home with the teddy bear. It proved to be a great distraction for the cops.

He still had it somewhere, Ray was sure of that when he leant around the side of the dumpster and fired off a few more shots. Somewhere in the closet full of Fake AH Crew memorabilia he’d slowly been trying to distance himself for. Easier said than done, apparently.

“Hop on!”

Ray looked up, startled, to be met with Gavin’s smiling face inside a giant bike helmet, bright green _Dirty Sanchez_ rumbling beside him. Without thinking, he took the hand extended to him and hopped onto the back of the bike. Gavin revved the engine, and with one hand grabbing the seat rest, Ray closed his eyes, and fired the last few bullets he had remaining in the clip as they shot just inches out of harm’s way.

0000000000

“That’s the third hit I’ve dodged this week.” Ray told him, wincing as Gavin jabbed his arm with a needle and thread. Out of the hundreds fired during the last few weeks, thankfully, only one had hit him so far. Didn’t stop it hurting like a bitch when Gavin patched him up, however. “Honestly. What the fuck did I do to Ryan anyway?”

“I was just about to ask.” Gavin finished his sloppy patch job, tying off the surgical string before chopping the end with a pair of blunt scissors. “He’s been in a foul mood recently. Then, we found out about all these hits being put out on you. Sucks. Geoff sent me to you to make sure you weren’t dead yet and- you know- maybe get some answers.”

“I’ve got nothing.” Ray huffed, rolling his shoulder experimentally. His arm ached, and there was still a light sting when the tiny movement pulled at his stitches, but he’d had far worse in the past. They all had. Ray still had nightmares about the night Ryan stumbled into the apartment with a bullet in the side of his skull. He ended up in a coma for three weeks. One centimetre further and the bullet would’ve killed him.

Ray cried. He sat at Ryan’s bedside and sobbed for twenty-one nights until finally, he felt the light squeeze of Ryan’s hand against his and the world went back to normal. Coincidentally, that was also around the time he’d started thinking about leaving the whole AH deal behind.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Gavin asked, drawing Ray from his thoughts. “You know. Might be a bit more constructive than this trying-to-kill-each-other lark.”

Ray rolled his eyes, and laid back on the bed. “Fuck no.” he mumbled, and slowly, Gavin joined him. They were laid side-by-side, Gavin’s arm, slender and golden pressed against Ray’s, black-and-blue.

“Well, you haven’t really got much else of a choice.” Ray looked over as he heard the click of a zippo lighter, and a lit cigarette was hung from Gavin’s pert lips. “I mean, I’ve pissed a lot of people I love off in the past. Geoff actually did shoot me once, in the foot. Michael’s been close to bloody strangling me more times than I can count, but… well… never like this. Ryan’s trying to _kill_ you Ray. Like for real.” He drew in breath, and a cloud of grey smoke followed shortly after. Ray’s nostrils flared, breathing in the scent. It was comfortingly familiar, cigarette smoke, expensive cologne. How long had it been since he and Gavin had been _together_ , like this? Ray remembered countless nights they’d laid and smoked together, talking about everything and nothing at all. None of them were in the last six months.

“I don’t know.” He settled on mumbling, rather than voicing the conflicting opinions he had in his mind. Up to that point, he’d been perfectly happy with his decision to leave the Fake AH Crew. Solo work paid better anyway, and Geoff had managed to replace him pretty swiftly. Jeremey had always been around, as their biggest fanboy, so it made sense to promote him to Ray’s replacement.

Everything had fallen into place just as he’d hoped. Everything except for Ryan.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _This is how the world ends_ ,” Ray read aloud, squinting as his eyes followed the red letters, sloshed high onto the walls of the warehouse in thick, red paint. “ _Not with a bang, but with a whimper_. Jeez, dude, that’s some poetic shit.”

“Probably because it’s actual poetry, dipshit.”

The voice caught his attention immediately. It vibrated through his body, from the hairs on his head to the end of his toes. It poured into his ears, polluted his bloodstream, filled him with fear and hope and confidence and dread.

Ryan had always had that kind of power over him.

“Huh. Nerd.” Ray tried to huff, to be nonchalant, but it was useless. His voice shook with every work. His body shivered with every step forwards into the dimly lit space. The elevator, used a lifetime ago to carry cargo from floor to floor, whirred to life. Ray watched at the doors open, and rather casually, the Vagabond stepped out.

“Mask huh? And I thought we had something special.”

He could almost feel Ryan’s eyeroll, as he reached up and pulled the mask off his face. Ray bit his lip, holding in the sharp intake of breath he’d almost let slip. It had been along while since he’d seen his stupid, perfect model-face. Too long. Not long enough.

“You got a new scar.” He noticed, nodding towards the thick slash that went underneath Ryan’s right eye.

“Oh, this? It was stupid. Knife fight with Jeremey. I should’ve- it doesn’t matter.” He cut himself off, looking to the floor briefly. Only then, did it occur to Ray, that Ryan might be nervous to see him too. “I- that’s not what I’m here for.”

“No. You’re here to kill me.”

Awkwardly, Ryan tilted his head from side to side. It wasn’t a _no_ , but it certainly wasn’t a _yes_ either. Uncertainly curled in Ray’s gut. He’d never exactly been certain of _anything_ during their whole time together, but this was a new sense of uneasiness. If there was one thing he thought he’d be able to count on Ryan for, it would’ve been a good murder. Now, Ray wasn’t so sure.

“I was.” Ryan eventually said, gritting his teeth and shrugging awkwardly. “I… now I’m not so sure. Maybe I’ve gone about things the wrong way.”

 _That_ took Ray off guard. The last thing he ever would’ve expected from Ryan was an apology.

“Dude. Are you fucking with me?”

Ryan looked up then, and as the two locked eyes, Ray almost melted. It was that same, unsure, unassuming puppy-dog gaze. Ryan had killed him with it for years at AH, and here it was again, months and months later with the same fucking powers.

“Of course not,” Ryan said, and of course, moving forwards, Ray believed him. It was stupid, to think that everything that had been done could just be undone, but he didn’t care. He wanted the easy-fix, the movie-solution. He didn’t care that Ryan had actively tried to kill him in the same way he didn’t care if his apology was valid or not. Just being there, Ray and Ryan, the R’n’R connection, again, was enough. “I’m sorry Ray.” He eventually said. “I’m glad I didn’t succeed. If I really had killed you… I… I wouldn’t’ve been able to live with myself. It’s just… I-you-” he stilled, sighed, and looked down at the ground again to compose himself before regaining their eye contact. “-you left.” He settled for, and for a second, Ray could’ve sworn he’d seen a tear clinging to Ryan’s pretty blue eyes. But that was absurd, of course. The Vagabond didn’t _cry._

“You left.” Ryan repeated, quieter. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m here now.” Came Ray’s reply, as he pushed himself forwards and grabbed Ryan, pulling them together into a tight embrace. Ray reached up, wrapping his arms around the back of Ryan’s broad shoulders. Ryan’s arms came around tight at his middle and they stood together, in the middle of the old warehouse, hugging.

“I’m here now.” He repeated, voice muffled by Ryan’s shoulder. Ray squeezed his eyes tightly- tighter than he was holding Ryan- and pretended not the feel the wetness clinging to his eyelashes. “I’m sorry too.” He said, and for once, he actually meant it. “I’m sorry for everything.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“On your left.”

Ray couldn’t help but smile as he saw Ryan through the scope of his rifle, stop in the street and smirk before whirling around with a gun aimed to the left of him. A bullet smattered a cops chest with thick, red blood, and then Ryan continued his sprint. He held a hand to his ear, and re-opened the comms channel.

“Thanks for the heads up. Could’ve died.” He said.

“Could’ve killed you,” Ray shrugged, following Ryan through his heavy scope. “-but jeez- where’s the fun in that?”


	29. (Turnwood) Day Twenty-Nine: (Having Their Relationship be a Secret) Being Found Out by Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is getting real sick of Gavin's shit.

Day Twenty-Nine: (Having their relationship being a secret) Being Found Out By Friends - Turnwood

 

 

 

“Meg’s here!”

“I’m here for Ryan.” Meg laughed, looking into the camera. “I’m his moral support.”

“Yeah.” Geoff scoffed. “I’ll bet you are.”

The rest of the room laughed at the snide comment, and the video continued as normal. Nobody in the room paid any particular notice to the way Meg’s cheeks lit up with a blush, only highlighted by the whiteness of the couch she was curled up in in the Achievement Hunter office. Nobody in the room noticed Ryan, awkwardly shift from foot to foot, lips curled in a half-smile around a few words that he electively chose not to say.

People in the room didn’t tend to notice these things. They were always far too busy playing up to the cameras, or ‘working’, as they also called it. They never noticed much at all, the Achievement Hunters. Ryan had found them perfectly, conveniently passive to the whole he-and-Meg-secretly-dating situation. For all their teasing (again, almost entirely on-camera) they didn’t seem to be actively suspicious during regular work hours. That gave Ryan and Meg plenty of time to get used to each other, learn about each other and their relationship in the months before they were ready to be public.

The fans, however, weren’t so _passive_ to the whole thing.

 

 

“ _God- could those two get any more obvious?”_

_“So, Meg and Ryan are totally fucking right? I’m not just seeing things?”_

_“Meg and Ryan are so cute!!!”_

_“Everyone needs to shut the fuck up about this Meg and Ryan shit. They’re friends, and probably find a bunch of strangers speculating their relationship on the internet super creepy and gross.”_

_“Turnwood is real!”_  
  


 

“There’s more than usual, init?” Gavin interrupted Michaels’ dramatic reading of the fans comments on the latest _Go!_ Video, and Ryan felt his skin grow suddenly hot. Gavin was leant back, rocking slightly in his desk chair with his hands pressed together thoughtfully underneath his chin. “Usually it’s a few but recently… it’s _everywhere_.”

“People love to speculate shit.” Jack, wonderfully oblivious Jack jumped to Ryan’s rescue before he had the chance to fumble around a pathetic, half-formed excuse that would never have fooled someone as occasionally observant as Gavin. “It’s nothing. Just ignore it.”

“Hm.” Gavin hummed, more to himself than in response to Jack, and thankfully that was where it was left. He turned back to his computer and carried on working. Michael sat back down at his desk. Jack continued texting Caiti. Ryan remained silent.

“They’re getting close.” Meg told him later, sat sideways in his lap with one of his hands clutching her thigh, the other rubbing up and down the slender curve of her spinal chord absentmindedly. “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Really?” Ryan asked incredulously, eyebrows raising. “They’re way dumber than you’re giving them credit for.”

Meg scoffed. “C’mon. Gavin will figure it out soon enough. He’s suspicious enough already. It won’t take long for the others to catch on too.”

Ryan could do nothing but hope she was right. They’d been together, it felt, for so long now that a drawn out confession of their less-than-dramatic love affair felt a little stale and over-done. It was too late for such fanfare, they were together, there was nothing shocking about it. It was perfectly _comfortable_ , Meg in his lap, his hands on her back. Movies and hot-chocolate and small, intimate kisses between sentences. There was no spontaneous eruption of passion and shock to unload on everyone else. They were far too used to each other already.

“How is the whole, dating thing?” Geoff was entirely casual in his questioning, for once, and lacked any blindingly obvious ulterior motive. But, it was Off Topic, they were live, and Gavin had been staring him down with a piercing inquisition for the last hour. Least to say, Ryan was a little hot under the collar.

“Uh- fine, good. Fine.” Words spilled over each other into a jumbled splutter. He tried to pass it off as casual, sipping from his Diet Coke afterwards. The can was almost empty, and he had to tip his head backwards to even catch a drop. Geoff, Michael and of course- Gavin, eyed him with a sudden suspicion.

“Anything new on the horizon?” Geoff tried again. Ryan shook his head adamantly.

“Pre-existing?” Gavin’s eyes practically sparkled under the beaming set lights as he locked sight with Ryan, who squirmed.

“No.” He said, but it didn’t sound nearly as confident nor convincing as it had in his head. Gavin’s face split into a grin. Michael and Geoff wore matching, curious smirks.

“Well, that sounds like a lie.” Michael was the first to point out. Ryan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed tightly around nothing in particular.

“Yeah Ryan,” Gavin leant forwards, a perfect picture of smugness as he took a sip from his beer. “What _aren’t_ you telling us?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Ryan was, and had always been, a terrible liar. It was one of Meg’s favourite things about him. “Seriously-” he felt the need to add, mainly because the accusing glances and smirks hadn’t gone away. “Nothing at all.”

“ _Ryan!”_ Gavin teased. “Do you have a _girlfriend?_ ”

Ryan didn’t have to look at the monitor to know that his cheeks were burning red. “No!” he replied, but it was far too late for lies. They’d sussed him, Michael and Geoff following an incredibly attentive Gavin. Fuck that British prick. Ryan wondered how much BBC Sherlock he’d been watching.

“Well, you’re squirming, blushing, giving short and blunt answers.” If Gavin’s tone was teasing before, this was a whole new level of mockery that Ryan hadn’t even been aware existed. The smug, devilish smile on his face made him look exceptionally punch-able. “I bet it’s true. Oh! I bet it’s someone we _know_!”

“It’s _not!_ ”

“So there _is_ a girlfriend!” Michael threw his hat in the ring, and Ryan added him to the mental list of co-workers he needed to murder. “But we don’t know her?”

“Oh, we definitely know her.” Gavin deduced. “It’s written all over his bloody face!”

“What are you, a fucking detective?”

“Might as well be, boi! I’ve bloody solved it- haven’t I Ryan?”

Ryan glared at the two of them. “Shut up.”

“You’ve hardly solved it!” Michael ignored him. “You still don’t know who it is!”

Gavin reclined slightly in his seat. “Not yet. But I will.” He smiled, and the sight made nerves tie knots in Ryan’s stomach. Beside him, Geoff sighed, a soft smile on his face.

“Well, clearly this isn’t the place to be talking about it.” He said. “So, drop it for now, puppy.” He rolled his eyes at Gavin, who pouted and scoffed and made vague, British-sounding noises of protest. “So drop it. We’ll interrogate Ryan later.”

Silently, Ryan thanked him. If there was going to be a chance Gavin Free of all the idiots in the office figured out what had been going on underneath all their noses for months, he really didn’t want it to materialise on a livestream broadcasting to thousands of people.

Gavin seemed to understand this too- being the king of keeping his personal life locked and guarded from the general public- and kept his lip buttoned on the issue for the rest of the podcast. Not that that did Ryan any good, what with the thousands of fans tweets and blogging and commenting, demanding to know if Ryan had a _secret girlfriend_ , and if he did- was it none other than _Meg Turney?_

Ryan supposed that it was somewhat obvious. He and Meg were close, on and off camera. They did stupid matching cosplays. They had their own fucking show. They flirted, they had banter, they did goofy skits pretending to be the couple in Rocky Horror Picture Show, or pretending to sleep in the same bed with Mariel and Tyler not far behind. On the surface, yeah, these could all just be silly jokes- but when brought together;

Maybe they hadn’t been as discreet as they initially thought.

For weeks after the Off Topic incident, Ryan walked on eggshells around the office. He scarcely mentioned Meg’s name, let alone played along with any of the usual group teasing and banter surrounding the pair. Not with Gavin’s pretty eyes staring at him from across the room every time.

This continued, for a while, but, as he did with all things- people included- Gavin soon grew bored and did as Geoff said. He dropped it.

Ryan still felt uneasy, but Meg assured him they had nothing to worry about. Their relationship was hitting the three month mark, and soon, it would be perfectly fine to announce to everyone. She’d find a cool way to do it- like a Youtube video on her channel, or special episode of Free Play with a cute couples quiz versus Mariel and Tyler (the current second most speculated about pair, despite, what Ryan thought was the fairly well-known fact that Mariel was not even almost interested in men) and everything would be fine. They’d continue as normal, and finally, the tension would dissipate.

 

 

And then came the Rooster Teeth holiday party.

 

 

An annual affair, it was- at least to Ryan- an excuse for everyone he worked with to get incredibly drunk on company property, or, in the latter and more lucrative years of the company, a fancy hired out venue with an open bar. This just meant everyone got twelve times drunker than usual.

He was expecting the usual. Geoff was going to have too much whiskey and tell him he loved him until Griffon dragged him home. Burnie was going to try not to get drunk and fail miserably. Gus was going to leave early. Michael and Gavin were going to arm wrestle whilst Lindsay cheered on. Brandon would try and engage him in drunken conversation about science fiction. Ryan would stand, sober, and enjoy the company of everyone he worked with if nothing else. This year would be different- he’d have Meg- but they were still being careful. It didn’t matter how completely stunning she was in a glittering red gown that swept the floor (the theme this year had been _Hollywood red-carpet_ ) with giant heels that made her almost to his chin, rather than at the middle of his chest where he was used to her face sitting. It didn’t matter how, when she leant over and whispered into his ear a detailed description of exactly what was _underneath_ the gown, his entire body went over in tingles and he itched to run home. They were being careful. Nobody would suspect a thing- and when everyone was drunk and unassuming enough, he’d take Meg by the hand and whisk her away home to see every glorious part of her. Or- failing that- if she was also ridiculously drunk on fruity cocktails and ill-advised shots, he’d kiss her on the forehead and tuck her into bed with a  promise to care for her vicious hangover in the morning, and everything would be back to normal.

One, tiny detail caused all of Ryan’s expectations to come crashing down.

Gavin chose not to drink.

Gavin fucking Free- Gavin fucking _leash me directly to the bevs_ , _let me down three irish car-bombs and record a Let’s Play with you_ _Micool_ , _let’s jump on the table and hump the cabinets_ fucking _Free,_ turned his nose up at the offer of a whiskey from Geoff and said;

“No thanks. I’m not really drinking tonight.”

“Pussy.” Michael scoffed, taking the offered drink and downing it himself. Amongst the chatter that followed (mainly teasing from Michael and Geoff) Gavin looked over to Ryan, and Meg who was stood next to him, and smiled widely.

“Merry Christmas.”

For the rest of the night, Ryan kept approximately five solid feet between he and Meg Turney at all times. Every time she moved to get close, even make conversation, he’d step away, or turn to someone else, or bring someone between them. It hurt, keeping away from her, but Gavin fucking Free and his smug, wandering eyes were infuriatingly difficult to avoid. After the third or fourth successful diversion, Meg was fed up. Ryan tried not to notice, but suddenly, she wasn’t in his periphery any few minutes or so and that made him nervous.

For the first hour or so, he did his best to ignore it. He moved around the party quickly, made conversation with as many people as possible, regardless of how well he did-or-did-not know them. Gavin still wasn’t satisfied, but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything to catch him out on.

Then Geoff, a little intoxicated, appeared beside him.

“Just a heads up.” He sipped his dark drink, which smelt strongly on alcohol and made Ryan’s nostrils flare. “Bartender is moving in on your girl.”

Without thinking to protest, Ryan’s eyes flew over to the bar. Meg was leant forwards slightly, sipping something colourful. The bartender, rag tossed over his shoulder like they were in a fucking rom-com or bad porno, was leant forwards over the bar, smiling with shining white teeth whilst talking quietly. Meg was leaning in to hear him, laughing too. Her smile glowed- but there wasn’t the tell-tale crease around her eyes, or dimple in her left cheek. It wasn’t real. She was proving a point to him that it didn’t _have_ to be.

They caught eyes across the room. The bartended didn’t notice, but did take a pen from behind his ear and began writing something on a scrap of paper. Ryan didn’t have to move an inch to realise what it was-

-his phone number.

He made it across the room in five or so large, irrigated strides and stood before Meg. She looked up at him and smirked, and for a second, Ryan considered turning back around. Gavin was watching them, obviously. A lot of people were watching them- because for all they’d seen, Geoff had made one tiny remark and it had set Ryan off stomping towards Meg Turney. Nobody was turning down free tickets to that show.

And a show it was- when Meg reached forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. He melted into her, cupping her face with his large hands, and pressed their lips together. It didn’t bother him that he could feel her lipstick rubbing across his mouth. It didn’t bother him that someone, probably Geoff, was wolf whistling and everyone else was mumbling, gasping , cooing, in surprise. He leant back, and she laughed at him. Her eyes creased. The dimple showed. The bartended stood back straight and crumpled up the paper, tucking it into his pocket as if nobody had seen.

Ryan turned and looked over at Gavin. He was still stood leant against the wall, arms folded over his chest, smirk pleased. Then, as he caught eyes with Ryan, he walked across the room towards them and stopped at the barstool next to Meg.

Before Ryan could say anything- his brain was scrambling for something clever, a quip about Gavin finally getting what he wanted, a joke about Off Topic- Gavin dealt him one more blow that spun his head three hundred and sixty degrees as well as his mind.

He turned, smiling at Meg. She smiled back.

“Well Turney.” He stretched his back, rolled his neck, smirked again. “I believe you owe me a drink.”


	30. Day Thirty: Free Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E-M-O-T-I-O-N
> 
> (Mavin, cause c'mon, they're always going to be #1 in my heart)

 

Day Thirty: Free Space

 

EMOTION

 

 

 

It was rare for Gavin to be so down.

He was usually a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of guy. Michael had to give it to him, no matter how much he pretended to be infuriated by it, Gavin radiated a sort of give-no-fucks, easy, _lazy_ happiness about him all the time. He didn’t ever _try_ to be positive, he just _was_. Good things just _happened_ to Gavin, and he was openly grateful for all of the exceptional luck he’d been given over the years. Gavin was always seconds away from a stupid grin, a high pitched laugh, a squeal. It was rare that he ever got mad- because things just rolled off his back like it was made of goose feathers- and it was even rarer that he ever got _sad_.

Michael had watched him hit rock bottom for over a week now. He wasn’t sure what had started it, but suddenly, Gavin didn’t have that simple joy lighting up his insides. He wasn’t smiling, laughing, cracking jokes. He wasn’t filming at all- an unspoken agreement had been made between himself and Geoff and he’d managed to avoid being recorded like the plague. It was surreal, because Michael couldn’t think of a time in the past four years when Gavin didn’t whip his phone out once every eight minutes to film whatever shenanigans were occurring in the office, or simply whatever he found interesting enough to instigate at that time.

Gavin was like a lurking spirit, slinking between his private office and the car lot, where Michael had peeked out and seen him puffing on cigarettes every hour or so. Gavin had told him, once before when they first became close that he despised smoking, and that it made him feel sick. He saw it as a waste of time and money.

“Why would I pay for cancer?” he’d laugh. “I could just get it for free when I’m old.”

But there he was- shoulders hunched, hoodie pulled tightly around himself, lit cigarette shaking between his fingers. Michael had always known Gavin to have pretty toady hands, with the amount of time he spent using cameras. Why they were shaking he wasn’t sure.

“Is it me?” he asked Geoff, who shot him a tired smile. After all, he and Gavin had been fooling around for _months_ , floating in between a limbo of friends and lovers. They weren’t really in a relationship, they hadn’t talked about getting into one, but they were _together_ , in a loose sense of the term. “Have I upset him? Tell me if I fucking have Geoff, please. He won’t even fucking look at me, let alone talk to me.”

Geoff sighed, long and slow. “Look.” He said, “Gav just gets like this sometimes. It just happens. Usually, it’s when he’s homesick or something and usually it coincides with him being on business trips or… you know… not here. Why he’s still coming into work I don’t know. He’s not been sleeping or eating. He just sits in his room and smokes dope.”

“That’s not fucking healthy.” Michael huffed, folding his arms. Both he and Geoff were watching Gavin through the window, leaning against the brick wall of the office, scrolling through twitter on his phone. “How can I fix it?”

“You can’t.” Geoff shrugged. “Sometimes, people just get sad. You can’t fix his emotions.”

Michael thought long and hard about that statement, long after Geoff had left, long after Gavin had returned to his office, long _long_ after the workday finished. He paced up and down his department, debating texting Gavin and asking him to come over. However, when he opened up their chat, he remembered that Gavin hadn’t answered any of his previous texts for the last week.

“Fuck it.” He groaned, grabbing his car keys off the side. If Gavin wasn’t going to fucking spit it out and admit he was homesick or lonely or angry or sad, Michael would just have to go over there and talk to him, face to face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“How did I know you’d be here?” Geoff leant in the doorway of his house, smirking as he looked at Michael, stood on the doorstep with a beanie and a hoodie covering his messy mop of hair. “Couldn’t resist, could you? Mr Fix-It.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael pushed past Geoff into the house, and nodded a hello at Griffon, who was sat on the sofa. She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled.

“He’s down in his room.” She nodded towards the garden where Gavin’s little cubby hole of a home lied. Then, she looked over at Geoff, who was frowning fairly deeply in protest. “C’mon, let Michael try. Gav’s gotta talk to him about his seasonal sooner or later.”

“Seasonal?” Michael wrinkled his nose. “What the fucks that supposed to mean?”

Geoff was quiet, staring at his shoes. Griffon didn’t move, and her smile didn’t fall. “You’ll figure it out.” She turned her head, looking away from him before taking a slow sip of the wine held in her hands. “Now go. Before I change my mind.”

Taking that as his chance, Michael walked quickly through the house, out into the backyard where Gavin’s annex sat. it was just a bedroom and a bathroom, but it was _his_ , and that was enough for someone with a brain as abstract as Gavin. It didn’t matter if the room was six feet by six feet or twenty acres. To Gavin, all he cared about was the things that filled it.

Michael knocked on the door, but wasn’t met with an answer. So, huffing, he pushed it open.

Gavin was laid on his back, one hand behind his bed. Between his fingers was a lit joint. His head was at the foot of the bed for some reason, and his legs were pressed up on the headboard. He was dressed in his stupid, old, soft-looking _Touch My Awesome Button_ t-shirt and boxer shorts. He turned his head when Michael entered the room, but didn’t really react. Instead, he took another drag and exhaled smoke into the air. Michael coughed.

“Hey buddy.”

“Shut the door.”

Pushing the door in behind him, Michael took a step towards the bed. The room was hot, so he unzipped his hoodie and tugged his beanie off. Then, he went and sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, a foot or so away from Gavin’s head.

“Geoff says you’re sad.” Michael said. “Thought I’d come and see what that’s about.”

“SAD.” Gavin hummed, staring at the ceiling. “He doesn’t mean, like, literally. He means like S-A-D.”

Michael frowned. “What the fucks that.”

“Seasonal Affective Disorder.” Gavin glanced at him, and smiled briefly. “It’s a thing I sort of have where people get sad around this time of year. It’ll pass. You can… you know, come beside me if you want.” He looked at the space on the bed where Michael was awkwardly perched. Michael coughed again as smoke hit his nostrils, but still kicked his sneakers off and climbed onto the bed.

“Jeans too.”

Michael blushed. “Tryna get me out of my pants already?”

Gavin didn’t tease back, which was a strange sort of feeling. Usually, he was the ultimate tease. “No. Just don’t think you’ll be very comfortable dressed like that.”

Michael sighed, standing up from the bed and shucking out of his jeans. He left them on the floor beside his hoodie and sneakers, and then climbed onto the bed to lay beside Gavin, dressed the same, in a t-shirt and boxers.

“So…” he trailed off, turning his head sideways to look at Gavin as he continued to smoke and stare up at nothing in particular. “What’s this like seasonal shit?”

“Dunno.” Gavin shrugged. “Read it online, but it sounds sort of like what I’ve got. Just… you know, sometimes around this time of year, the winter, I get sad.”

“Maybe you’re homesick?” Michael offered. “You know, cause, it’s Christmas?”

“Maybe.” Gavin exhaled. “Or maybe I’m just sad for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is I feel it, you know? Like, my chest hurts cause I’m so sad. Everything feels like it’s had the sound turned down. And… like…” he trailed off, which made Michael’s heart stop because, for a second, he’d seen a flash of the old, excitable Gavin he was far more used to, even if it wasn’t in the way he usually knew. “I don’t know. It’s whatever.”

“Tell me how to make you feel better.” Michael turned on his side, and reached across to stroke the side of Gavin’s face slowly. He felt Gavin reach over, likely to rest his joint in the ashtray that had been sitting on the floor by the bed when he walked in. Then, he turned into Michael’s touch, so the two were facing each other. Michael carded his fingers through Gavin’s soft hair. “Anything Gav. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“There’s no quick fix, Michael.” He smiled. “It just happens. Like life just… _happens_. Can’t stop or change it whenever you want. Just have to ride it out.”

“Oh.” Michael swallowed, somewhat awkwardly. “Well, okay.” He said. “Just… I don’t know, did you ever think that maybe, you didn’t have to just ride it out on your own?”

Gavin smiled. “You’d make a good boyfriend Michael.” He said, and Michael felt his chest tighten. “I know I probably wouldn’t, which is why I haven’t tried but… you would. You’ll make someone really happy one day.”

“I could make you happy.” Michael suggested. “We could… you know, be together. If that’s what you want.”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Then, Gavin let out a slow sigh.

“You’re far too lovely for your own good, Michael, you know that?” he said. “Look at you, all the way over here for me because Geoff told you I felt _sad_. And now you want me to be your boyfriend? How do you live with being so bloody selfless all the time?” he rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness behind it.

Nervously, Michael laughed. “I don’t know.” He said. “I just… you mean a lot to me, okay? I actually give a fuck about you, believe it or not. And if you’re… you know… sad or whatever right now, that’s cool. We can just wait until you’re not. And then we can… try whatever. Until then… like you said,” he shrugged, shifting himself so that he was closer to Gavin. In return, Gavin moved closer to him, and rested his head on Michael’s shoulder. Gently, Michael pressed a kiss to the top of Gavin’s head and held his face gently. “We’ll just ride it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading along with my 30 days! I know I didn't post a chapter every day like I promised, cause I'm the worst, but I hope I didn't keep you all waiting for too long. Also, I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and Comments appreciated as always- and of course- you can still find me on tumblr / twitter @PAPERSK1N

**Author's Note:**

> see you tomorrow!


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